


Wish Upon a Horcrux

by Vintage_CeliaEquus (CeliaEquus)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, Horcruxes, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temporary Amnesia, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, snanger, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 43,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8303962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaEquus/pseuds/Vintage_CeliaEquus
Summary: The story formerly known as "Hermione's Age Difference Issues". A stray wish and a horcrux send Hermione back in time... but not as far as you may think. And what does Severus Snape have to do with it?Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.Originally posted on ffnet November 11, 2009, it was one of my earliest fics, and certainly my longest in terms of number of chapters.  It's probably the most requested fic after 'Purity' to be posted on AO3, so here you are!  Again, I was playing with tropes.  In this case, time travel.





	1. When You Wish Upon a Horcrux

It had been five days since Ron had rejoined Harry and Hermione. She should have been happy. After all, wasn’t she supposed to be in love with Ron? Yet he was so immature to have run off in the first place. Maybe he had matured _somewhat_ , but _still_ … It was so damn frustrating!

Now she sat there, holding a fragment of the locket. She didn’t know why she kept it. The boys had led her to where Ron had used the sword of Gryffindor to destroy it, but she felt a memento might help her get through this, to show that they had accomplished part of what they had set out to do. It was like a security blanket, with the security. And without being a blanket. What did that make it, then?

Tired of thinking, Hermione sat there, New Year’s Eve, while the boys were discussing how to create a fireworks display inside the tent. Casting the Tempus Charm, Hermione discovered that midnight was only seconds away. It was nearly 1998. What would the new year bring?

If only I could go back to where this all began, she thought. Sirius wouldn’t be dead; Dumbledore wouldn’t be dead. Hell, I could even save Cedric Diggory, with any luck!

“I wish…” she murmured. She gripped the piece of the locket so hard that a jagged edge of it drew blood; but she didn’t notice. I wish I could return to 1994, to stop _him_ from rising again, she thought, just as 1997 ended, and 1998 began.

“I _wish_ ,” she said again, opening her eyes. But where was she? This wasn’t the tent.

This was the Gryffindor common room.

“Hermione! What the hell happened to _you_?”


	2. Happy New Year?

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, panic-stricken. “What… what am I doing here?”

“Hermione you’re… you’re _hot_!” Ron said, looking her up and down.

“Oh, shut up, R-Ron?” she said, suddenly studying him very carefully. “Did you take some kind of anti-ageing potion?

“There’s an anti-ageing potion?” Lavender asked.

“No, you’re the one who took an ageing potion,” Harry told Hermione. He looked younger as well. What was going on?

“How did I get here from the forest?” she asked, looking around frantically, and saw that everyone she knew in Gryffindor looked younger. And there were older students who shouldn’t have been there.

“You were in the Forbidden Forest?” Ginny said, and Hermione gaped at the girl who looked like she was barely a teenager.

“No!” Hermione said, frustrated.

“Happy 1994, everyone!” came the united voices and Fred and George as they set off some fireworks in the room. They had only just arrived from their dormitory, and hadn’t seen the older Hermione there.

“1994?” she shrieked, leaping up from the couch. “What… Did I seriously just time travel? I can’t have done. All I was doing was wishing, and I had… I had _this_ ,” she said, pulling the piece of broken locket out of her palm. “I… shouldn’t it be 1998?”

Everyone looked at her as though she was mental, but it couldn’t be denied that Hermione had just suddenly aged in front of their eyes.

“You’re talking to her again?” Fred asked Ron and Harry, who had momentarily forgotten that they were annoyed at her over the whole Firebolt incident.

“Haven’t you noticed, Fred?” George said, waving his hand at Hermione. It finally dawned on Fred that she now looked about 18, not at all the 13 she should have been.

“Oh,” he said.

“It’s… it’s four year ago?” Hermione asked, still panicking. “I… I need to see the headmaster. Oh Merlin, he’s still alive, isn’t he? Please tell me that Albus Dumbledore is still alive!” she exclaimed, grabbing Fred’s shirt front.

“Yeah, he’s still alive,” Fred said. “Hey, Hermione. Want to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend with me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows, eyeing her up and down. “You sure have grown up fast, you know that?”

“You’re too young for her,” George said, elbowing his brother out of the way as Hermione tried to grasp reality. “Come with _me_ , Hermione.”

“I need to see him,” Hermione said, suddenly bolting from the common room. She ran as fast as she could, but as she rounded a corner she bumped—hard—into someone who grabbed her to stop her from falling over. She looked up into the face of Severus Snape, and gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh. Seems I’ll be keeping these chapters short. The next chapter, “Meeting a Murderer”, was actually part of this chapter, but I decided to try and match the length of the first chapter a bit better.


	3. Meeting a Murderer

“May I help you, miss?” Severus asked, a twinkle in his eyes, and he held onto her firmly but carefully. He hadn’t recognised her yet. Of course, she was supposed to be shorter, with wilder hair. And in the Gryffindor common room, not roaming the halls after curfew.

“Oh, uh,” Hermione said inarticulately. She couldn’t draw herself from his eyes. She started to tremble, forgetting what she was supposed to be doing.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. Now, are you looking for someone in particular?”

Hermione was completely overcome by his smile. She had never seen him smile. In fact, nobody ever saw him smile. Probably because it was so rare an occurrence.

“Uh, hello, Professor,” she said. Yes, she had definitely forgotten that he was Dumbledore’s murderer. Standing there, still in his arms, she was having a difficult time even remembering who she was.

When she called him ‘Professor’, Severus was confused. Who was this young woman in front of him? He hadn’t seen her before… had he?

“Are you a past student?” he asked, frowning, and letting her go. When her legs gave out from under her, he was forced to rush forward again and hold her up.

“S-sort of,” Hermione said, trying to focus her mind. She found it difficult at the moment.

“Well, either way, you shouldn’t be here,” he said, annoyed that he had forgotten himself so much.

“I just came from the Gryffindor common room… Oh! I remember,” she said. “Sir, it’s me. Hermione Granger.”

“Granger?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Then it hit him. He knew he’d seen those eyes before. He even recognised something in her voice, though it was older, more mature, than it had been when he had seen her… when was it? When did he last see her?

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking down at her feet. He let her go once again.

“Out after curfew, Miss Granger?” he asked, back to his usual self. A smirk settled on his face. “Perhaps docking some points would…”

“Professor, look at me,” she said, standing back and waving her arms out at her side. “Doesn’t something seem… unusual to you?”

“The fact that you’ve taken some illicit Ageing Potion doesn’t seem that unusual, considering the Polyjuice incident—what was it, a year ago?”

Hermione winced. “Professor, I’ve just travelled back in time and I… Oh!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering that he had killed—was going to kill—the headmaster, and she made a break for it, running past him and to Dumbledore’s office.

“Damn,” he said quietly, wondering if she was going to tell him about their little… was it a moment? He wasn’t quite sure. He sure as hell didn’t know what had gotten into him, but… Hang on. Travelled back in time? Oh, this he had to investigate.


	4. A Meeting With Dumbledore

“Uh,” Hermione said, looking at the stone gargoyle, which stared back at her impassively.

“Cod lollies,” Severus said, making her jump two feet in the air. The gargoyle moved, and Hermione, panicked, bolt behind it, up the stairs, and to the door of Albus Dumbledore’s office.

 _Cod_ lollies, she thought. Good grief, Professor.

She pounded on the door viciously, which was a contrast to Dumbledore’s mild voice.

“Enter,” he said, and Hermione opened the door. She stared at the headmaster for a full ten seconds, just drinking in the sight of someone who was, in the future, dead. Soon, the sight was blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, and she ran forward. Rounding the desk, she threw herself on Dumbledore, sobbing as she held him close.

“Merlin, Professor; I’ve never been s-so happy to see you!” Her shoulders jerked up and down as she wept onto his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

“Miss Granger, perhaps you’d better explain,” he murmured, raising his eyebrow at Severus, who just shrugged.

“She ran into me in the hall,” he said, explaining his presence. At his voice, Hermione’s head whipped around, and she backed away.

“Don’t come near me,” she said in a voice so hard that both men looked at her, more than a little shocked.

“I wouldn’t advise speaking so to one of your teachers,” Severus said icily, the only emotion on his face coming from his eyes, which were filled with fury.

“I’m _not_ your student,” she replied, glaring at him fiercely.

“Oh?” he said, his raised eyebrow going even higher.

“Sit down and explain, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, indicating a chair in front of his desk. Hermione stepped forward jerkily, and sat down, her eyes never leaving Severus as she felt about for the seat.

“Oh, do get a grip on yourself, girl,” Severus growled, and Hermione sat down abruptly, slightly shocked.

“Now, I assume from your—er, strange behaviour—that you have not taken any ageing potion or used any ageing charm,” Dumbledore said to Hermione, who finally turned away from the potions master to the headmaster. She nodded. “I hate to ask it, as it seems so unlikely, but have you travelled by…”

“Time; yes,” Hermione said, calming down. “And you’re… you’re dead, sir,” she said, more tears running down her face. While her memory was foggy, she still had a hold on some on the facts; at least, at the moment.

“How did I die?” Dumbledore said, interested. “No, wait. You mustn’t tell me about the future.”

“But I can save _lives_ this way!” Hermione said. “What year is it? 1994? Well, I can save Cedric, and Sirius, and you, and…”

“Sirius?” Dumbledore frowned. “Sirius Black?”

“Ye… oh. Of course. He’s uh… he’s innocent. Professor. Peter Pettigrew… Oh! There’s _something_ about Peter Pettigrew, but I don’t know quite _what_!” She hit her forehead with the palm of her right hand. “Why can I not _remember_?”

“Perhaps it’s the effects of time travel, Miss Granger?” Severus suggested drily, inspecting his nails to feign disinterest. Not that it mattered. Hermione was alternating between looking at her hands and looking at Dumbledore. The headmaster was just watching her.

“How did you know about Peter Pettigrew?” he asked.

“Professor Dumbledore, I’ve come from the future,” Hermione said. “And I’ve somehow replaced my 1994 body with my 1998 body. And I appear to be losing my memories of the future.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Dumbledore suggested kindly. “But I’m afraid that in this, uh, _situation_ … You probably cannot be returned to your own time.”

“Because this _is_ my time, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. Neither she nor Dumbledore had noticed Severus sit down next to her.

“Why are you so angry at me, Granger?” he asked, and again she started at his voice.

“I… I think there’s something bad that you do in your future,” she said, screwing up her face in an attempt to remember. “Something to do with You-Know-Who, and… and Malfoy?” She wasn’t sure. The men tensed when she mentioned Lord Voldemort.

“Perhaps you had better explain about Tom Riddle,” Dumbledore said.

“He’s back,” Hermione said. “In my time. He comes back, s-somehow. Sometime.”

“When?” Dumbledore asked in a hard voice.

“That’s the problem, Professor,” she said, tearing up again. “I… I just don’t know!”


	5. Problems

“Well, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, putting his head in his hands, “is there anything you _can_ tell us? Yes,” he said, putting his hands up, “I know that I said that we shouldn’t know anything about the future, but it seems that I may have been wrong.”

“It’s a bloody miracle,” Severus muttered, smirking, and Dumbledore glared at him.

“You said that Cedric would die,” Dumbledore continued, trying to prompt Hermione, but she just looked slightly confused.

“Cedric?” she asked.

“There are three boys in this school who go by the name ‘Cedric’,” Dumbledore told her patiently. “Cedric Carlisle, Cedric Diggory, and Cedric Horton.”

“Oh, uh,” she said, frowning in concentration. “I think it’s… Cedric _Diggory_? That name kind of rings a bell.”

“I think, Headmaster,” Severus said, “that research into the matter of this time travel, and Miss Granger’s memory loss, would be in order.”

“Quite right, Severus,” Dumbledore said, still looking at Hermione. “Perhaps she can help you?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Hermione said, feeling miserable.

“You said that Severus wasn’t your teacher in the future,” Dumbledore said. “Had you dropped Potions?”

“I wasn’t going to Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “Harry, Ron, and I… We were travelling around. I remember a forest, and then I was here. I can’t remember why we weren’t at school, but I think it also had something to do with L-lord V-voldemort.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said. “What did you want to do here, then?”

“By next year, hopefully I’ll have some idea of what has happened to me,” she said, thinking it over. “So perhaps I can start my seventh year in the next school year, when the boys are in their fourth year. Would that be all right?”

“I’m sure it would be fine,” Dumbledore said, beaming at her once again. Hermione couldn’t help but yawn. The headmaster chuckled. “Perhaps Severus had better take you back to Gryffindor Tower so that you can get some sleep. And don’t worry about explaining anything to your friends tonight. I’ll make an announcement at breakfast tomorrow.”

“What will you say?” Hermione asked, standing up.

“The truth,” Dumbledore said simply. “No point in lying, is there? Perhaps if this was ten years in the past, or twenty.”

“Right,” Severus said, following it with a snort. “In _my_ school years.”

“That would be easier to explain,” Dumbledore said. “Well, it would be easier to lie, and say that you were an exchange student. But in this case…”

“Quite,” Hermione said, nodding. “Well, good night, sir, and thank you.”

“Good night, Miss Granger.”


	6. A Cat and a Rat

She and Severus made their way to the tower slower than they would usually have walked in a similar situation.

“Miss Granger,” he finally said, and Hermione stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry for anything I may do in the future.”

“Well, you may not do it in the future if I can get my memory back and stop it—stop _you_ —from whatever it is that you do.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. Hermione was surprised. Not only did she get an unwarranted apology from her Potions professor, but also thanks. It was unheard of for anyone, let alone a student, to get either.

It took them both a few seconds to realise that they were looking at each other again, unable—and unwilling—to move. Hermione’s breathing slowed, while her heart rate sped up. Severus stepped towards her; but right then they heard a meow. They looked around, and saw Crookshanks making his way over to them.

“Oh, Crookshanks!” Hermione exclaimed softly, squatting down to scoop him up into her arms. “I’ve missed you!”

“There,” Severus said. “Another thing for you to remember. You haven’t seen him in awhile, apparently.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, nuzzling her cat’s fur while Severus looked on, wishing that it was his neck she was nuzzling. He shook the sudden thought out of his head, blaming it on a lack of female companionship in… well, quite some time.

Crookshanks meowed again, and struggled to get down. Disappointed, Hermione placed him on the floor, but he looked at her before trotting off down the hallway a bit. He then looked back at them, as if to say ‘Follow me’ before he continued a bit further. They looked at each other, and silently agreed to follow.

After several minutes of walking around the castle after Hermione’s cat, they soon heard a scratching and scuttling noise. Crookshanks held back, for a wonder, because there was Ron’s rat, Scabbers.

“Hello, Scabbers,” Hermione said, picking him up. “Now, Crookshanks, you haven’t been scaring him, have you?”

‘Who, me?’ Crookshanks’ expression seemed to say.

“Funny,” Hermione said, looking at Scabbers’ front feet, and noticing the missing toe. “Now, why do I keep thinking of Pettigrew when I look at him?”

“Maybe this thing belonged to him,” Severus said, indicating Scabbers.

“N-no,” Hermione said.

“Well, what’s going on here?” a voice asked, making them turn quickly. Remus Lupin walked towards them with a smile plastered on his tired face.

“Hello, Remus!” Hermione said brightly.

“Her… Hermione?” he said, wide-eyed. “What happened to you? It _is_ you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’ve travelled back in time by… four years, isn’t it, Professor Snape?” He nodded. “And I’ve taken over my younger body. We’re not quite sure why, or how. But, uh…” She looked at Scabbers, and something made her frown. “We found Scabbers! Uh, this may seem a funny question, but could you look at him? I know you were a friend of Peter Pettigrew—well, I remember that very faintly, so I could be wrong—but…”

“No, you’re right,” Remus said, holding out his hand with a frown. “Why?”

“Miss Granger thinks that there’s a connection between this rat and Pettigrew,” Severus said. “Though he was always a very rat-like man anyway.”

“More than you’d think,” Remus muttered, taking Scabbers from Hermione. “Well, he never had a pet rat, but… Oh, Merlin!” he said softly. “Wormtail?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll know to whom he refers in this scene, doubtless. At least, I should hope you would.


	7. A Discovery

“What do you mean, ‘Wormtail’?” Severus asked Remus, who was looking in complete disbelief at Scabbers.

“It’s… it’s _Wormtail_ ,” Remus said quietly, as Scabbers struggled in his grasp.

“Professor, you’re _hurting_ him!” Hermione said, trying to get him to let go.

“No more than he deserves, I suspect,” Remus muttered, pulling out his wand. Hermione gasped, and it was all Severus could do to hold her back as Remus put Scabbers on the floor.

“Oi!” a voice shouted, and they all looked up to see Ron and Harry moving towards them.

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione said, relieved that he was there in time.

“If it’s not bad enough that your bloody cat chases him around, now _he’s_ going to hex him!” he said, jerking his thumb angrily at Remus, who was waving his wand slightly.

“Don’t hurt him, Professor Lupin,” Hermione said, struggling in vain against Severus’ arms. He decided to keep holding her… just in case.

“This won’t hurt him,” Remus said, and just then, a spell shot out of his wand and hit the rat. Ron cried out in rage, and sped forward, only to shrink back in shock as the rat slowly turned into a stout man, cowering in fright as his eyes darted around in the darkness.

“R-remus,” he said. “H-hello, old friend.”

“Old friend?” Remus said, furious. “You’re supposed to be _dead_ , Peter! What the hell is going on here?”

“Uh, well,” Peter Pettigrew said, twiddling his hands a bit while the Golden Trio and Severus looked on in wonder, “f-funny thing you should ask.”

“He’s an Animagus?” Hermione whispered, turning a questioning gaze on Remus. He nodded, and waved his wand again. Pettigrew flinched, but nothing happened.

“He can’t change back now,” Remus said grimly. “Just as well. Come and explain yourself to Dumbledore. Now!” He grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him along in the direction of the headmaster’s office.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking around at everyone, confused.

“This is the man _supposedly_ killed by Sirius Black,” Remus said fiercely, jogging Pettigrew’s arm slightly to emphasise his point. “Clearly, he’s still alive.”

“And he’s been with you all this time, Ron,” Hermione said, wide-eyed. “Hang on!” she exclaimed. “H-he… oh, there’s _something_! How can my memories be fading?”

“That’s what we intend to find out, Miss Granger,” Severus said dryly, still holding onto her. Neither of them were complaining; and in the dark, with the added distraction of a man presumed dead, no one actually noticed.

“Something about… _he_ killed them! I think,” she said, chewing on a fingernail. Pettigrew looked frightened, and guilty about something. “And your parents, Harry,” she said, turning to her best friend. “He’s connected to them somehow… some spell?”

“I think you’ve disturbed the headmaster enough this evening,” Severus murmured in Hermione’s ear, tightening his arms around her waist slightly. She shivered. “You can find out what happened tomorrow.”

“Will you get some Veritaserum, Severus?” Remus asked.

“But of course, Lupin,” Severus replied, smirking.

“Thank you.”

“If this is something to do with my parents,” Harry said, looking at Remus, “I want to come, too.”

“You’ll find out tomorrow, Potter,” Severus said loudly, glaring at him. Again, his arms tightened around Hermione, only this time it was an unconscious reaction to what Harry had said. “Go to bed before I take any more points off you.”

“You haven’t taken any off yet, Professor,” Harry said, glaring back.

“Don’t tempt me,” Severus said, his eyes flashing.

“Speaking of taking things off,” Ron said, turning bright red when he noticed where the Potions master’s arms were, “ _hands off our Hermione_!”

“Do forgive me for trying to stop her from attacking Lupin in your rat’s defence,” he said, letting go of Hermione reluctantly. She was also reluctant to step away from him, but knew that she had to go back to the common room, and try to sort out what was happening to her. At least there weren’t any classes the next day.

“Good night, professors,” she said to Remus and Severus. “Come on, you two,” she said, hooking her hands around her friends’ arms. “He’s right. We can ask Professor Dumbledore about it tomorrow. I’ll probably have to see him tomorrow, anyway.”

“What _did_ happen to you, `Mione?” Ron asked, looking her up and down yet again.

Severus suppressed a chuckle as he watched everyone depart, leaving him alone in the hallway.


	8. Truths Revealed

Sure enough, the next day Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast.

“I’m sure you’ve all been made aware of the… surprising accident that seems to have befallen Miss Hermione Granger,” he said, and Hermione blushed as everyone turned and looked at her. Some of them hadn’t heard about it, and their jaws dropped. There were also those who had heard, but only the Gryffindors, and some students from other assorted houses, had actually seen her. There was some whispering, and many boys were looking at her far more appreciatively than they ever had before. Her blush just deepened.

“There were more startling revelations during the night-time, though,” the headmaster continued, and the students looked at each other.

“As you know, the prisoner who has escaped from Azkaban, Sirius Black, was incarcerated for mass murder, including the betrayal of Harry Potter’s parents, leading to their untimely deaths.” Hermione and Ron looked at Harry, who just stared at Dumbledore, waiting for him to get on with it. “One of the men he was accused of murdering is Peter Pettigrew, and old friend of his. However,” he said, glancing down at the staff table momentarily, and then raising his eyes again, “Peter Pettigrew has been alive all this time, and was responsible for the crimes of which Sirius Black was accused.”

Gasps went up from the tables, including from the staff. The only teachers who knew about it were Remus and Severus, so it was a surprise to everyone else.

“Albus,” Minerva whispered hoarsely. “We… we were wrong all this time?”

“Late last night, Aurors from the Ministry of Magic took Pettigrew away to Azkaban, where he will await trial. Therefore, the danger from Sirius Black has been lessened; and if you see him, please reassure him that he is innocent, and bring him to me. I know that this is unprecedented, but it’s the least that we can do for someone who was wrongly imprisoned for the murder of his friends.”

“Darn right it’s unprecedented,” Ginny muttered to Hermione. She nodded at the younger girl. “Inviting a criminal…”

“He’s not a criminal,” Hermione corrected.

“…into Hogwarts is just… it’s just not done.”

“No.”

“Parents will complain.”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t put us in danger,” Hermione said. As the other students chattered around her, she chanced a look at Severus. He noticed her watching him, and watched her back, only out of the corner of his eye. The look she was giving him made him feel a bit funny. Why did she seem so interested?

“Are you going to tell them about Granger’s… condition?” Severus asked Dumbledore.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” the headmaster mused, tapping his chin with a finger while he stirred his porridge with his other hand.

“It would make sense, wouldn’t it?” he said.

“All right,” Dumbledore said, standing once more.

“There’s a lot going on that we don’t know, isn’t there?” Professor Flitwick asked.

Severus almost said ‘Duh!’—it was a word he had picked up from listening in at conversations among Muggles near his home at Spinner’s End—but reasoned that it would be so decidedly out of character that it would shock everyone to death. And multiple deaths would involve _so_ much paperwork.

“In regards to Miss Granger’s unfortunate state, this is due to the fact that she somehow travelled back in time a few years, and has taken over her younger self… so to speak,” he finished a bit more quietly as the hall buzzed with intrigue. Hermione felt like banging her head against the table. She was that embarrassed. “However, she seems to be having problems with her memory, so I would please ask you not to pepper her with questions, as it would be quite fruitless.”

“Damn right it would,” Hermione muttered, annoyed.

“In the meantime, she will attend her regular classes, and I expect you to all treat her as you did before—perhaps with even more respect, considering what she has probably gone through in the intervening years,” Dumbledore finished.

“I just wish I _could_ remember,” she said, feeling useless, not for the first time in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw. Poor Hermione.


	9. A Fugitive Running

Despite Dumbledore’s warnings and pleas, there were still people—a large number of them—who were determined to find out their future from her. Hermione, however, knew the speed of gossip in the school. So, between classes, she sent her Patronus to the headmaster, and asked permission to hex anyone who questioned her about the future again. He sent her a reply just as she reached the next class—she had his pull permission to tell people of the threat.

By dinner time, Hermione had threatened six people with a variety of curses and hexes that she had learned in the last few years. She was now feared throughout the school, and no one else bothered her.

“Wow,” Ron said, looking around at the other students during the meal. “They’re actually _scared_ of you, `Mione.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” she said through clenched teeth. “Remember? You two aren’t talking to me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Don’t ‘yeah, but’ _me_ , Ronald Weasley!” she hissed loudly, and several students nearby shut up, in case she started throwing hexes.

“All right, all right, `Mi… er, Hermione.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, and the look gave Hermione the impression that she was being patronised. With a growl, she stood up and stormed out of the Great Hall. Her head swivelled around as the door to Hogwarts opened, and she gaped as Sirius Black staggered inside, and promptly collapsed.

Like a shot, Hermione was by his side. He was severely malnourished. Hermione sent her Patronus for the second time that day, this time to Madame Pomfrey to warn of the new arrival.

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione levitated the barely conscious man into the air, and hurried up the stairs with him, whispering reassuring things all the while, as he groaned in pain and hunger.

“Nearly there, nearly there,” she said, panting a bit as she ran towards the infirmary. “We’ll be there in less than a minute, Mr. Black.”

“Call… call me ‘Sirius’, love,” he said, smiling a little as he looked at his saviour. “You have… the right. You’re… looking after me, aren’t you?”

His smile made Hermione blush a little. “Well, we’ve been told to help you…”

“But you didn’t… have to,” he said, punctuating his words with a cough. “Nor did you run… and get someone else.” He groaned again as Hermione pushed open the doors, to be greeted by Madame Pomfrey.

“Oh, my dear girl,” she said, pulling back the covers on a bed hurriedly. “Thank you for bring him here, Hermione.”

“‘Hermione’, is it?” Sirius asked, grinning at her, feeling better as he was settled comfortably into the bed. He hadn’t been in a bed this soft since the night he was captured by Aurors; from there, it was straight to Azkaban; and after he had broken out, there was no possibility of a soft bed while on the run.

“Hermione Granger,” she said, introducing herself as she helped Madame Pomfrey heal the various cuts and bruises that Sirius had gained, Merlin knew how.

“Hermione Granger,” Sirius said, grasping her hand as she adjusted the blankets on the bed, “as far as I’m concerned, I owe you my life. Let me know if there’s _anything_ I can ever do to repay you. _Anything_ ,” he repeated, moving his eyebrows slightly, eyeing her up and down. Hermione blushed yet again, fiddling with the blanket using her free hand.

“Sirius, you leave her be,” Madame Pomfrey said, watching the exchange. “She’s a student here.”

“How old are you?” Sirius asked, not taking his eyes away from Hermione’s face.

“I’m… I’m eighteen,” she said, and he smiled mischievously.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, entering the hospital wing. She jumped back, dropping Sirius’ hand. The convict’s eyes sparkled in amusement as he watched her reaction; but he settled back in the bed contritely when Dumbledore shot him a severe look.

“Headmaster,” Sirius said, tucking his hands inside the blankets, out of temptation’s way; she was still so close to him.

“I’m glad to see that you are well,” Dumbledore said, approaching them.

“He’s skin and bone, Albus,” Madame Pomfrey told him, her eyes flashing. “He’ll need to do a lot of eating—and a lot of healing—if I’m to pronounce him even _marginally_ well!”

“Will _you_ help me get better?” Sirius asked Hermione innocently. She started slightly at his voice.

“I… er, if Madame Pomfrey needs my help, I’ll… yes, I’ll help,” she stammered.

“Good,” Sirius said, feeling smug.

“In the meantime, you should return to your common room, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore reminded her.

“Which house… ah,” Sirius said, staring at the badge on Hermione’s chest. “A Gryffindor like me, eh?”

“Uh, yes,” Hermione said, feeling funny at his intense gaze. “Anyway, I must go. Let me know if you need my help anytime, Madame Pomfrey.”

“Yes, dear,” she said. “You can floo to the common room, if you like.”

“Until later then, Mr. Black,” Hermione said, nodding slightly at him.

“Sirius,” he insisted mildly.

“S-sirius,” she said, before she hurried to the fireplace and returned to the Gryffindor tower.

“Behave,” Dumbledore said, frowning at the former prisoner of Azkaban. “Don’t want to end up back in prison, do you?”

“Ah, but she’s of age,” Sirius said with a smirk, as he settled back on the pillows.

Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey decided not to tell him about Hermione’s time travelling… yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh. A longer chapter than usual, for this story, anyway. But honestly, someone needs to hit Sirius Black up the back of his head.
> 
> Yay for 'Les Mis' reference in the title!


	10. Helping Sirius

At sixteen minutes past two in the morning, Madame Pomfrey sent a Patronus to Hermione: Sirius had had a nightmare, and needed calming down. He had asked for the girl in a moment of blind panic before passing out.

Struggling down the stairs to the fireplace, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Hermione realised that she didn’t have her dressing gown on; but she was too tired to care, and hoped that she could return to bed soon after. She threw some of the floo powder into the fire, stepped in, and forced herself to say ‘Hospital Wing’ as clearly as possible.

Within moments, she was stepping out of the fireplace in the infirmary, coughing slightly, still a bit disoriented with the early hour.

“Pro… Professor Snape?” she said, her voice husky with tiredness. Sure enough, the Potions teacher was bending over Sirius’ bed slightly, tilting something down his throat.

“Miss Granger,” he replied, not turning around as he tipped the vial up more.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, walking up to them.

“I flooed for Severus when I realised that we had run out of Dreamless Sleep Potion,” Madame Pomfrey said. She was holding Sirius’ hand as he stared blankly at the ceiling; or, at least, he _had_ been staring blankly at the ceiling. As Hermione approached the bed, and Severus removed the vial, the convict swallowed, smiled, and sat up straighter.

“If it isn’t Hermione Granger,” he said, grinning cheekily at her.

“I brought additional vials of the potion for your stores,” Severus told Madame Pomfrey over the bed.

“Thank you, Severus,” she said, smiling tiredly. “Now go to bed. You sound exhausted.”

“I wasn’t expecting a late night—rendezvous?—as Miss Granger was,” he said, too tired to even bother trying to smirk. He looked her up and down, and Hermione deeply regretted not having thrown on a dressing gown when she thought of it.

“You called for me, apparently,” Hermione told Sirius, ignoring her teacher.

“And you came,” he said, holding out his free hand. Severus obligingly moved out of the way, and placed the spare bottles of potion on a table nearby.

“Have a nice night, Miss Granger,” he said. “Don’t let Black tire you out, will you?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open, Madame Pomfrey frowned, and Sirius tossed up between glaring and laughing.

“How… what… _Professor_!” Hermione finally said, now wide awake with indignation.

“Never mind, love,” Sirius said, reaching out for her hand, which was currently in a fist. “He’s just jealous.”

“Of _what_?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Perhaps you should return to your room,” Madame Pomfrey said. Hermione made the mistake of glancing at Sirius, who gave her such big puppy dog eyes that she was in danger of melting on the spot. Severus snorted.

“Now I’m _definitely_ leaving,” he said, and he strode out of the room, robes billowing.

“Well, I must say, he hasn’t improved with age, has he?” Sirius said, grinning again.

“You know him?” Hermione asked, sitting down without thinking.

“We were at Hogwarts together, in the same year level,” he explained. Madame Pomfrey hovered nearby, ready to take charge if her patient tried anything on the student. “Of course, _I_ was in Gryffindor—annoyed my pureblood-fanatic family no end—and Snivellus,” here he jerked his head at the door, “was in Slytherin.”

“He’s Head of Slytherin now… hang on. ‘Snivellus’?”

“Our nickname for him,” Sirius said, and he sniggered. “Fitting, isn’t it? Oh, we Marauders used to make life _hell_ for him.”

“Marauders… as in the Marauders Map?” Hermione asked, frowning a bit at Sirius’ remarks about Professor Snape.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of it?” he asked, leaning back with a smirk, hands behind his head.

“Harry’s got it,” she replied. Sirius nodded his approval.

“Well, I looked forward to getting to know Harry,” he admitted. “After all, I’m his godfather, and therefore his guardian.”

“That’s _wonderful_!” Hermione exclaimed. It was as if she’d never been asleep at all. “I don’t suppose that you can sign his pass for Hogsmeade, then, could you? I don’t like him sneaking there… Oh, er, not that he’d sneak there, because that would be breaking the rules,” she added hastily, remembering that Madame Pomfrey was there.

“I’ve gone completely deaf,” she proclaimed, concentrating on some knitting that she had summoned from her office.

“Better and better,” Sirius murmured, squeezing Hermione’s hand slightly while he ran his thumb along the skin on the top.

“I haven’t, however, gone blind,” she continued, and Sirius paused. But he winked at Hermione, who blushed slightly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice in the dim light.

“Madame Pomfrey said that you had a nightmare,” she said, her voice a bit high; she quickly cleared her throat before she continued. “What was it about?”

“Azkaban,” Sirius said, suddenly depressed, and they all sat there quietly. Half an hour later they were still there, not moving, just thinking about the horrors that Sirius would have endured during his imprisonment. He eventually dropped off to sleep, and Hermione left some minutes later, still not breaking the silence. Tears slid down her cheeks as she too drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi, again with the long chapters. Poor Sirius. Of course, he’s clearly trying to make moves on Hermione, and she’s extremely susceptible to his charms at the moment; but things will change. And I’ve no doubt that Sirius will eventually tell her what happens in the dream.


	11. Schooling

“Stop talking, Potter, or I’ll remove points,” Severus said with a sneer, looking directly as Harry, who had just been working on his potion.

“But I didn’t say anything, sir…”

“Ah, but you just _did_ ,” the teacher replied, standing up slowly and approaching Harry and Ron’s cauldron, and the indignant Gryffindors sitting behind it.

“Only because you spoke to me, _sir_ ,” Harry insisted, clenching his teeth.

“Five points from Gryffindor for speaking back, _Mr_. Potter,” Severus said with mock politeness.

Don’t say it, Hermione mouthed to the two boys; but as they weren’t looking at her, it was pointless.

“Professor,” she said loudly, raising her hand. He turned his head slowly, and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing as Hermione’s hands dipped slightly. “Uh…”

“What is it, Miss Granger?” he asked, his voice barely a purr. She gulped.

“Uh… well… I wanted to check with you that… uh… Is this the right angle at which to be cutting these roots?”

“Miss Granger,” he said, and she sank into her stool with some little difficulty. “As everyone in the school surely knows, you are the resident know-it-all; so I ask you, what possible reason can you have to think that you are cutting the roots _incorrectly_?”

Hermione blinked, and glanced so briefly at her two best friends that only Severus noticed. Sure enough, the boys were calm now; or at least, they weren’t ready to hex the Potions Master, but they were rather nervous for Hermione.

“Could it be,” he continued, “that you are trying to distract me from Potter and Weasley?”

“Why would I do that, sir?” she asked, and she bit her lower lip in worry.

About to retaliate, Severus drew himself up to his full height; but Hermione was exceedingly grateful to the gods above when the fireplace roared to life, and Madame Pomfrey’s head popped up amid green flames.

“Miss Granger? Hermione?” she called, and Severus glared, suppressing a sigh.

“What is it, Poppy?” he asked, approaching the fireplace.

“Oh, Severus,” she said. “I need Hermione in the hospital wing. Sirius is…”

“Disrupting. My. Lesson,” Severus said, grinding his teeth in annoyance.

“I have to respect my patient’s wishes,” Madame Pomfrey said primly, but her look was very severe; and Severus, sighing, beckoned Hermione over to the fireplace.

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, controlling the whine that was threatening to impose in his voice.

“No, it can’t!” Madame Pomfrey said, and her head disappeared from the fire.

“Well, it seems you have a reprieve, Miss Granger,” Severus said, smirking slightly at the sigh of relief that Hermione let escape. “Collect your things and go to the infirmary. Floo there; can’t keep Sirius Black waiting, can you?”

“No, sir,” Hermione said, blushing. She returned to her cauldron, and smiled apologetically at Neville, with whom she had been working.

Sorry, she mouthed, and he nodded understandingly. Book bag over her shoulder, Hermione returned to the fireplace.

“I shouldn’t worry,” Severus whispered as she passed him. “Mr. Black is _very_ experienced with girls.”

Hermione’s hand itched to slap the smirk off his face, but refrained with great difficulty, instead holding her bag in a death grip. She forced a smile onto her face.

“Why, Professor Snape,” she said loudly, throwing some floo powder into the fire with her left hand, “I didn’t know you cared!”

Before he could retort, she stepped into the green flames, and flooed to the hospital wing, leaving behind an irate professor, who barked at the class to get back to work.


	12. Extreme Gratitude

Green flames erupted in the hospital wing’s fireplace, and Hermione Granger stepped out gracefully, book bag swinging slightly, her hair glinting in the glow of the fire. At least, that’s how Sirius saw it, and he smiled.

“Sirius Black, you have _impeccable_ timing!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward to him and taking his hands in hers. “How can I _ever_ thank you?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said, smirking. “I won’t tell you how I found out your timetable, but I did, and knew that any excuse to get you out of Potions would do.”

“Well, I think Professor Snape was just about to sound off at me, because I kind of… you know… uh…”

“What did you do to Snivellus?” Sirius asked. Hermione frowned slightly at the name, but didn’t comment… yet.

“I smart-mouthed him… I think,” she said. Sirius barked out a laugh, startling her slightly. She sat down, smiling shyly.

“Tell me, what did you say?”

“He was deducting points unnecessarily from Harry, as per usual,” Sirius growled at this, but Hermione kept on, “so I tried to distract him. Naturally, he saw through it,” she said, grimacing. “He was _definitely_ about to punish me somehow, I’m _sure_ of it. But before I left, he implied… he implied…” She trailed off, and Sirius frowned.

“What. Did. He. Say?” he asked, affronted at whatever it was that the professor might have said. Affronted for Hermione’s sake.

“He implied what, well, everyone _else_ has been implying,” she said, tilting her head a little, embarrassed.

“And by everyone else, you mean…?”

“Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, and Madame Pomfrey.”

“And just _what_ do you think they’ve been implying?” Sirius pressed.

“That you’re… you’re after me for… for…”

“Well, I do confess that you’re _very_ attractive, and yet so… unattainable? Perhaps you belong to someone else… or wish that you did?” he finished, tilting his head as well.

“I…”

“Tell me, Hermione Granger,” he said, “how do you feel?”

“What do you mean?” she hedged.

“I think I know how you can show me your gratitude,” he said.

“You’re causing me to skip class, which is something I _never_ do,” Hermione said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Then she remembered something that he said earlier. “You think I’m… attractive?” she finished in a squeak.

“Oh, very,” Sirius said, swinging his legs around and off the bed to face her full on. “So. Do you want to pay me back for my help?”

“Well,” Hermione began, licking her lips nervously as she looked down at her lap.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he said, tipping her head up and pressing his lips to hers. She jerked back at the sensation, and a flush came over her face, and trailed down her throat.

“I…” she said, unable to speak for quite some time, while Sirius just watched her closely.

“Yes?” he asked. Neither of them noticed the green fire appear, nor the head of Severus Snape look up at them, just as Hermione launched herself forward. She took Sirius’ face in her hands, and kissed him passionately. And they were too busy to see Severus pulled his head out of the fire, no expression on his face.


	13. Aftermath

“Miss _Granger!_ ”

Hermione broke off from the kiss immediately, and they both turned their heads to see Madame Pomfrey standing there, a look of astonishment written clear across her face.

“Just _what_ did you think you were doing?” she asked, and Hermione glanced at Sirius, and let go of his face, which she just realised she was still holding.

“I was thanking him for getting me out of Potions,” she said, and Madame Pomfrey shook her head.

“Miss Granger, I _never_ thought I’d see the day where you’d be thanking someone for helping you to skip class, especially in such a manner!”

“Am I really that hard to resist, Poppy?” Sirius asked innocently, grabbing onto one of Hermione’s hands and kissing it gently.

“I really must get back now, unless there’s a real reason that you called. Did you have another nightmare?” Hermione said.

“Just wanted the pleasure of your company,” Sirius said with a shrug. He grinned suddenly, and kissed her other hand. “I should do more for you in the future, if that’s how I’m going to be repaid.”

“Yes, well, I’ll go now,” Hermione said quickly, and she hurried to the fireplace, her bag swinging wildly, and she returned to the classroom.

“Ah, Miss Granger; finished already?” Severus asked snidely. “You may be just in time to save Longbottom’s cauldron from melting.”

“Sir,” Hermione said, ducking her head as she made for her stool. He grabbed onto her arm to stop her passing.

“What, did Black tire of you so easily?” he said, wide-eyed with supposed innocence. “I thought girls usually held his interest for longer than a quick… snog.” Hermione’s face flamed up.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you use the word ‘snog’, sir,” she said, flustered, as everyone listened, hardly believing that Hermione could have been kissing a strange man while she skipped class. Had she really changed so much over the last four years of her… well, future?

“You may return to your seat,” Severus said, letting go of her arm. Hermione nodded her head shortly, and hurried over there, head still bowed. She avoided looking at anyone’s eyes, and tried her best to ignore the sniggers she could hear coming from the Slytherins.

“Where are you up to?” Hermione asked Neville, looking into the cauldron, and thinking that it didn’t look anything like it should in _any_ of the steps.

“Uh, well…”

For the rest of the lesson, Severus continually goaded Hermione about her kiss with Sirius, and she felt embarrassed when she realised that he must have seen them. She was also embarrassed _and_ annoyed that he was deliberately telling the whole class about it; indirectly, of course. Knowing the speed of gossip at Hogwarts, Hermione was glad that she was actually eighteen, despite the fact that her memories seemed to have stopped at fourteen.

“Come and see me before you go, Miss Granger,” Severus said, who had given her a low mark for the potion because Neville had really botched it up along the way. She would have words with Sirius later.

“Professor?” she asked after class, standing in front of his desk.

“I feel compelled to warn you about Sirius Black,” Severus said, and Hermione raised her eyebrows at this apparent show of concern. “He’s a womaniser—he was at Hogwarts, and after Hogwarts. Hell, he was probably chatting up the Dementors in Azkaban, just to avoid falling out of practise!”

“Are you telling me that you _really_ care about my welfare?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just warning you,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, reminding Hermione of how Sirius would lean back in his pillows. They both also had a penchant for putting their hands behind their heads, just as the professor was doing so now.

“Well, it was just the once, and it was to thank him for saving me from your wrath,” Hermione said. When Severus just looked at her blankly, she said, “You were just about to punish me—or something—when Madame Pomfrey flooed. Apparently he just wanted me to visit, and he knew that I’d have Potions at this time.”

“How did he know that?” Severus asked, his voice hard, as he sat forward in his chair once more, his eyes suddenly glinting.

“I… I don’t know,” Hermione said, her eyes wide at the ferocity in his tone.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “If he’s found out your timetable, he’ll be able to continue bothering you. And if you reject him, he’ll just find another female. Really, he’s worked his way through most of the school before. I’m sure he has no qualms about doing it again.”

“But he’s an adult, so it wouldn’t be allowed,” Hermione said, frowning.

“If he thinks he can get away with kissing you, he’ll try anything,” Severus said. “Now find out from him how he knew which class you had, and then come and tell me.”

“He told me that he and his friends used to… well, he didn’t use the word, but I think he was implying that they bullied you,” Hermione said, slowing down at the end.

“And?” Severus asked, eyes flashing.

“Just… wondered, that’s all. You know, if perhaps you’re a bit blind to him because of that…”

“There’s a reason that the headmaster and your head of house have been warning him to back off from you,” Severus said severely, “and it’s because they know about his ways, and are worried about you. As am I. So please steer clear from him; or at least don’t give him any encouragement. Unless, of course, that’s what you want,” he finished, sneering.

“But… but I _don’t_ want him!” Hermione said, her eyes getting even wider. “It’s not him I want.”

“Then who?” Severus asked, leaning forward.

“I… I need to go,” Hermione said, bolting from the room so fast, that it almost put his neck out to watch her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, but Hermione: “Faint heart never won fair lady”. Yes, I think by this stage she would definitely rather have Severus than Sirius. And now we know why she kissed him, though there’s probably something that she isn’t telling us… uh, Severus.


	14. Calm Before the Storm

After the arrest, trial, and imprisonment of Peter Pettigrew, and the full pardon that Sirius received, things settled down at Hogwarts. After the events of the past two years, for the rest of the year to be so calm was a bit of an anti-climax.

Sirius still flirted with Hermione, who took it in her stride. After kissing him that one time, she made sure that he understood that it really was only the once… but it wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that she confronted Sirius, demanding to know why he was still putting moves on her.

“I’ll be out of here soon, love,” he said, smiling and shrugging. “Once I get back to the real world, a free man, I’ll be going out and having fun at all sorts of nightclubs, meeting girls who are excited by the fact that I’m an ex-convict. I need to practise on someone, and I know that you aren’t serious about me.” Hermione laughed, and he joined in.

“Oh, well that makes sense,” she said. “So all the people who’ve been warning me against you…”

“Were worrying unnecessarily,” he finished.

Sure enough, he was released from the hospital wing a few days later, and he was to return to the family home, 12 Grimmauld Place. During the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione all helped him move in, along with the teachers who had been assigned to escort them: Minerva and Severus.

Yes, life was quiet once again at Hogwarts, and students were able to get on with exams and assignments as though nothing had really happened. The next bit of news that got the students mildly excited was that Hermione would be released from her studies for the rest of the school year, and then do her seventh year while Harry and Ron did their fourth year. Because life had been relatively boring until then, the school was abuzz for two days straight.

One of the Aurors who had come for Peter Pettigrew was a young woman named Nymphadora Tonks. She was one of Sirius’ cousins; the only one he got along with, apparently. She visited the school quite a bit when he was recovering, and she was going to stay with him at Grimmauld Place, at Madame Pomfrey’s instructions. Tonks, as she preferred to be called, was to make sure that Sirius was eating enough, at least until he seemed to be able to stand on his own two feet. However, even after he recovered and was out of Hogwarts, she still visited the school, though no one was sure why. Yet.

“Did you hear?” Ginny whispered to Hermione as they sat down to breakfast one day, nearing the end of the school year.

“Hear what?” Hermione asked, leaning towards the younger girl to hear better.

“Turns out that Tonks and Professor Lupin have been seeing each other secretly, and they’re getting married after school finishes!” Ginny said. “He’s going to open a book shop in London so that Tonks can be near work.”

“So he’ll be leaving the DADA job,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Probably just for the best…”

“Why?” Ginny asked.

“Well, it’ll just be easier for them, won’t it?” she said lamely. Ginny just shrugged off the answer and started eating her breakfast. Hermione had worked out that Remus was a werewolf, but had decided not to tell anybody, as it wasn’t her secret to tell.

“Anyway, we don’t know who’s going to be the next teacher yet, but there goes another one,” Ginny said between bites of toast. Hermione just nodded, and ate her own breakfast quietly. She only looked up from her meal once, even when Harry and Ron joined them, and she saw Severus looking at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there characters missing from the tags? Yes, most likely. Am I going to add them eventually?
> 
> Meh.


	15. During the Holidays

The Weasleys had the Burrow; Harry had the Dursleys. Hermione had Hogwarts.

She went home to the Granger residence first. She hadn’t yet told her parents what had happened, and dreaded what they might say, and think. They may have been proud, let alone surprised, when they were told that she was a witch; but this time-travelling ‘incident’ would be a hell of a shock, and may even be a setback in their acceptance of the wizarding world, and their daughter’s role in it.

Hermione waited at King’s Cross Station for her parents, knowing that they wouldn’t recognise her at first. She went to the car park, and sat on a bench, watching the cars that came in and out so that she’d know them when they came. She waited. And waited. But still they didn’t arrive. Surely they didn’t know about the situation, and were shunning her?

With a sigh, she stood up, and stretched. She picked up Crookshanks in his basket, grasped her trunk’s handle, and turned around to walk to a safe floo point. She went straight to her parents’ house, to her bedroom, and released Crookshanks. Leaving her trunk in her room, she headed downstairs, and came upon her mother and father in the living room.

“You didn’t pick me up,” were the first words she spoke to them. They leapt up like a shot, and stared, open-mouthed.

“Her-hermione?” Mrs. Granger asked. “Is it… it can’t be you.”

“There was an… accident,” Hermione began. “But why didn’t you come and get me?”

“We drove along and looked, and saw other students leaving,” Mr. Granger said. “But we didn’t see you there.”

“I didn’t see the car,” Hermione said.

“We bought a new one,” Mrs. Granger told her. “Didn’t you see it outside when you got here?”

“How _did_ you get here?” Mr. Granger asked.

“I apparated,” Hermione said. “I learnt how to last year.”

“Last year?” Mrs. Granger said, frowning. “You didn’t tell us that.”

“No; well… as I said, there was something that happened to me on New Year’s Eve,” Hermione said, indicating that her parents should sit back down.

“You took some kind of potion that aged you, didn’t you?” Mr. Granger asked accusingly. Hermione was hurt.

“Of course I didn’t,” she said. “It was December 31st, 1997, and just as the time hit midnight, I somehow got sent back in time four years. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what happened. Along the way, my memory left me—the memory of those four years, that is. It just… faded. I don’t know how to get it back yet, but I’ll…”

“That is _it_ ,” Mrs. Granger said, rising from her chair once more. “I’ve been able to deal with many things these past few years, but _this_ … this is just too much.”

“How do you think _I_ feel about it?” Hermione asked, also standing. “I’m now four years older than my friends; my older body has taken over my younger one.”

“You realise that if people found out about this, they’d assume that we had you out of wedlock,” Mr. Granger continued, the last to stand up. “We could never explain it to anyone; no one has a growth spurt like this.”

“So you… you want me to leave,” Hermione said dully. Crookshanks wandered into the room and over to her. She picked him up and held him close, her hands trembling slightly.

“It really would be best,” Mrs. Granger said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yes; I see that,” she said. “Funnily enough, this doesn’t feel like home anyway. I don’t know why—maybe something like this happens in the future—but it’s like I wasn’t meant to come home to you.”

“Then go,” Mr. Granger said, and a few minutes later they heard a faint pop as Hermione apparated from her former bedroom.


	16. In the Leaky Cauldron

She arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, unsure of what to do now. Should she contact Harry or the Weasleys? Or perhaps she should return to Hogwarts?

While she was mulling over the situation, she ordered a pint of butterbeer. When someone brushed against her, she whipped around, wand at the ready. Fully prepared to defend herself, she saw that she was face to face with Professor Snape.

“Sir!” she said, and she quickly put away her wand.

“Attacking teachers, Miss Granger?” he asked snidely.

“N-no, Professor Snape,” she said. Crookshanks shifted slightly in his basket, but made no noise.

“What brings you here, with your school things no less?” Severus said, arching an eyebrow at the cat basket and the trunk.

“My parents… well, with this problem, it’s understandable…”

“What _is_ it, Miss Granger?”

“They’ve kind of… uh… kicked me out. It’s for the best, really!” Hermione insisted as Severus’ face darkened in anger. She shrank back in her seat in fear.

“No parent should treat any child like that,” he hissed. “Not for something outside of their control.”

“What choice do they have?” she said. “They’re _Muggles_ , Professor!”

“Just what were you planning to do now?” Severus asked, crossing his arms and looking at her sternly. “Stay with Potter? The Weasleys? Black?” At this last suggestion, his scowl deepened even further, and Hermione really began to fear for her life.

“I… I don’t know,” Hermione said. “This isn’t something I was exactly expecting. Do you think I could return to Hogwarts?”

“Perhaps, if the headmaster gives you permission, and if a teacher accompanies you back there.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Hermione began. “That’s why I was hoping just to go back to Hogwarts. Maybe I’ll be able to recover my memory there. It will certainly be easier with the library there. And I can get ready to begin my studies in the next school year, can’t I?”

Severus sighed, and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ve almost finished my shopping in Diagon Alley. If you come with me to the apothecary, and help me carry the bags back to the school, I’ll ask Professor Dumbledore if you can stay. You’d need someone to escort you there anyway, so…”

He was cut off when Hermione threw her arms around him. “Thank you, sir!” she exclaimed. “I’m ready when you are.” She picked up the cat basket in one hand and her trunk in the other.

“Uh… all right, then,” Severus said, and he took the trunk from her hand, trying to ignore the feelings that arose between them at the simple touch. “Come along, Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. Because I wrote a lot of this story while Mum and I were visiting my sister in the UK, a lot of the author notes written at the time relate to the London visit. The one I'd written for this chapter was complaining about my sister showing me all these videos on Youtube that I just didn't like. Now I'm wondering what the hell they were.


	17. Early Return to School

Dumbledore was perfectly happy to let Hermione stay at Hogwarts during the holidays before school resumed, though neither she nor Severus told him the real reason for her stay; that she now had no home. Instead, Hermione was given the guest rooms nearest to the library so that she could have easy access to the books. Because she was the only student there, she was given permission to sit at the staff table, which pleased her no end.

“How is your research going, Miss Granger?” Minerva asked over dinner, three weeks into her stay.

“It’s difficult to find direct references to time travel, because so many people argue that it isn’t possible,” Hermione admitted. She hated to conceded defeat when it came to research. “Those few incidences that I’ve found so far are where people have travelled back longer in time than I have, by decades instead of just years. Even centuries. Also, when it comes to things like the Time Turner, you run a risk of running into yourself, but instead I’ve just replaced my younger body.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining,” Severus muttered, and immediately wished that he hadn’t spoken aloud, as it had fallen into one of those dreaded lulls in a conversation where everyone hears what is said. Everyone looked at him, astonished.

“Are you being sarcastic, sir?” Hermione asked.

“Would it make you feel better if I said ‘yes’, Granger?”

“I…” Hermione wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she just shook her head and returned her attention to the soup she was eating.

“What do you mean, Severus?” Albus asked, determined not to let him escape this one.

“I do not have to explain myself, Headmaster,” Severus said loftily.

“Yes; it’s all right, Professor,” Hermione told Dumbledore.

“Nonsense,” Dumbledore said. “What did you mean by you ‘wouldn’t be complaining’?” he asked insistently.

“I just meant that… that many of the male students are paying far more attention to her than before,” Severus said, trying not to stammer. “It seems to be an anomaly for Miss Granger. She should make the most of it.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying I should be doing to ‘make the most of it’, Professor Snape,” Hermione said, suddenly interested in the conversation again.

“Wish I hadn’t said anything,” Severus said, trying to keep a whine out of his voice.

I wish he hadn’t, too, Hermione thought, returning once again to her soup.


	18. Triwizard Tournament

The holidays passed with little trouble. Hermione went to the Ministry of Magic with Harry and Sirius so that they could arrange Harry’s move from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place, including moving the protective wards that Dumbledore had originally put in place at the Dursleys’ residence. By the end of the holidays, Harry was happily settled at Sirius’ house, and Hermione and Ron had visited them. They went to the Quidditch World Cup, and returned home safely.

Severus was still acting strangely, in Hermione’s opinion. When she expressed her concerns to Sirius, he just dismissed them, and asked why she was thinking of Snivellus, of all people. She berated him for using the nickname so severely that Sirius determined never to use it again, for fear that Hermione may hex him.

He still didn’t understand her attitude, though.

At the start of term feast, Dumbledore announced that Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, which struck a chord in Hermione’s memory; however, she put it down to having read about it before.

“Hey, Hermione!” Ron said as they returned to the Gryffindor tower. “You can go for it, since you’re old… er. Than us. Well, it’s true!” he said, as Hermione shot him several icy looks. “Anyway, you’re already brilliant, so you’re bound to get in.”

“It’s dangerous, for one thing,” Hermione said as they sat in front of the fire in the common room. “My memory is the link to future events, and if I die in the contest, then who knows how it might affect the future?”

“What if you’re _meant_ to compete?” Harry asked. “Maybe that’s why you were sent back to this time, to stop someone else from dying by participating in the competition.”

“I…” Hermione didn’t have an answer for that. She was glad that she had her holiday assignments written, because it had given her more time for reading. She was still unsuccessful in her search, and was now going through books in the Restricted Section of the library. “Meanwhile,” she said, changing the subject slightly, “I need you two to help me do my research.”

“Oh, `Mione…” Ron groaned.

“You can do your schoolwork, at the very least, and just keep me company,” Hermione snapped. “Come on, the number of times I’ve helped you two, and you’re not even willing to be there for moral support?”

“All right, all right,” Ron said. Harry grinned at their argument.

“We’ll always be there for you,” he told Hermione, who smiled at him.

“ _Thank_ you, Harry,” she said, and she went to bed after bidding them good night.


	19. Hermione Granger and the Goblet of Fire

Time seemed to fly. At continued prompting from everyone else in Gryffindor, Hermione _did_ put her name into the goblet of fire, to put herself forward for the tournament. When the goblet accepted her name, it was official: she was definitely of age; the time travel hadn’t affected that.

However, despite all that she had learnt in the intervening years that only she had lived, she was convinced that she’d never be good enough for the competition. After all, she wasn’t as sporting as the others; how on earth could book-learning help in such a physically dangerous tournament?

“Hogwarts,” Professor Dumbledore intoned, grabbing the paper that the goblet spewed out. “Hermione Granger.”

The Gryffindors cheered, and Hermione’s heart started to pound. The goblet had chosen her to compete. She, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum. Did that make her the _new_ Chosen One? Harry would probably be relieved for the spotlight to be on someone else for once.

But that wasn’t to be.

The goblet sprang to life again just when everyone was settled down. Dumbledore caught the fourth piece of parchment that flew out, and read what was on it.

“Harry Potter.”

All heads turned to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so we know what happens next. I’m not going to insert everything word for word that happens when the adults are discussing Harry’s participation in the tournament, because what’s important is that it’s decided that he’ll go on. I’m sorry to any Cedric fans out there, but it’s important—for ‘artistic’ reasons—that Hermione is the Hogwarts competitor. Well, one of them, really.
> 
> [Wait, why was this chapter so damn short? Apologies, readers.]


	20. Gryffindors Compete

The time for the first part of the contest drew close. Hagrid, worried about Harry and Hermione, showed them the four dragons that would be used. Immediately, Hermione began to research everything that she could about dragons, wondering what kind of role they would play. Something that all the books stressed was that dragons were fiercely protective, which made her wonder if she had to find treasure that they had hidden without getting roasted alive; but they didn’t have long enough to find it. Or did they?

There wasn’t much preparation that Hermione could do without being in full possession of the facts. She was going nearly mad with worry. If only she could remember what would happen! Now she was putting in as much research as she could in relation to the competition, which put her time-travel and memory research in the backseat.

“Looking forward to today, Miss Granger?” a voice asked as Hermione walked along. It was the Day of the Dragons, as she now thought of it.

“Oh; Professor Snape,” she said, as her teacher drew level with her. “I’m just heading down to the arena now.”

“Do you know what the contest is about?”

“Dragons play a part,” Hermione said miserably. “That’s all I know.”

“You’re not supposed to know _anything_ about it,” Severus said, tilting his head.

“Uh… I…”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Hermione,” he said. She blinked.

“You called me ‘Hermione’?” she asked, dumbfounded. Severus looked uncomfortable—for about a split-second, anyway.

“I’m not teaching you today,” he said finally. “Though that does not give you permission to call me by _my_ first name, you hear?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“I suppose you told Potter about the dragons, then?” he said, sneering, back to his usual self once more.

“We all know about it, Professor,” she said. They were, by now, right near the tent. “At least, I _think_ we all do. Find out soon enough, right?”

Severus nodded, and then left her at the edge of the tent. She joined the others inside.

When it was Hermione’s turn in the arena, she looked around, and found the mother dragon quickly. She looked, and sure enough, a golden egg was sitting there. After a few moments’ thought, she picked up a rock, and made a copy of it. She threw the copy behind another rock, where it made a loud enough sound to catch the dragon’s attention.

That done, she created a replica of the golden egg using the other stone, waiting for the dragon to move away to where she had thrown the stone. Blessing her presence of mind in wearing sneakers, she crept up to where the eggs were, and got ready to replace the real egg with her fake egg.

Just then, a gasp—and several screams—went up from the crowd, as a shadow fell over Hermione. She looked around, knowing what she would see. Sure enough, she was face to face with the mother dragon.


	21. What Happened Next

Hermione opened and shut her mouths several time, frozen in spot. When the dragon reared back to fire—literally—she leapt into action. She summoned her yellow canaries, which flew back and forth, trying to distract the magical creature; while they were busy, she then summoned her Patronus, which swam around in circles.

While the dragon was distracted, she swapped the eggs, and made the real one small enough to fit into the pocket of her robes. That done, she leapt down to the ground, and bolted behind a boulder. There were cheers from the crowd, but her survival instinct had taken over, and her wand was at the ready, her senses alert. She watched the dragon settling back over the eggs, frowning suspiciously—from what she could tell—at the golden egg.

“Miss Granger!” Dumbledore called from the tent, and Hermione turned quickly, about to hex him. Then she realised who it was, and as the sense of danger ebbed away, she blushed at her foolishness, as she considered it, and walked sedately to the headmaster.

“Sorry about that, Professor,” she said, and she pulled the egg out of her pocket. She frowned as she returned it to its proper size.

“No problem, my dear, no problem!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Well done!”

“It seemed too easy,” Hermione admitted, looking warily over her shoulder. “The dragon wasn’t easily fooled, as I suspected would be the case, but she made a pretence of leaving, giving me the opportunity to get up there. At least it’s all over with now.”

“Not _all_ over with,” Severus said, entering the tent as she spoke. Again, Hermione whipped around, wand out, prepared to defend herself. She relaxed when she saw who it was, and pocketed her wand once more. “Aren’t you skittish today?” he added, smirking at her.

“Well, gee, Professor,” she replied, “a person escapes death-by-dragon, and you expect them to be feeling calm?”

“No need to be sarcastic, Granger,” Severus said, and Hermione laughed at that.

“So many students have just felt incredibly derisive towards you, without even knowing why,” she said, and Dumbledore chuckled as Severus frowned at her. “Never mind, Professor. I won’t tell anyone. Of course, I can’t speak for Professor Dumbledore.”

“No indeed,” Dumbledore said, wiping a tear away from his cheek. “Now I must go and watch the rest of the competitors. Don’t worry, Miss Granger. You can have a nice long rest before the next part of the contest now.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Hermione find out what to do with the egg? Sorry that Hermione’s go in the arena wasn’t that great—I’m not the best strategist when it comes to thinking up new things for old characters in old situations which I haven’t created. I just thought that something along the lines of Transfiguration would be more in her line than flying on broomsticks.


	22. Promise of a Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY I haven't been posting every day like I'd hoped. I've been mucking around with this stupid book of mine, trying to get the print copy ready. I'm fed up with it. At least it can now be purchased on the CreateSpace website, although not yet on Amazon. But I'm happy. Yay. It's FINALLY over with.
> 
> Oh wait. Audio book version has to be made. Bother.

Now that the pressure of the first part of the tournament was over, Hermione and Harry felt that they could relax. Ron was speaking to Harry again, but he was still annoyed at Hermione for some reason, which was frustrating. After all, he had been the one to suggest that she put her name into the goblet in the first place!

At dinner, Dumbledore announced that the Yule Ball would take place, and that students who were in their fourth year or higher could go. The champions, naturally, would be going with their own partners. Harry had a crush on a fifth year named Cho Chang, so he was planning to ask her out.

“What about Ginny?” Hermione asked him.

“What about her?” Harry asked, clearly oblivious to the younger girl’s crush.

“You could ask her if Cho can’t go with you,” Hermione said. “In fact, why don’t you just ask Ginny anyway? I’m sure she’d say ‘yes’.”

“I’ll see,” Harry said, shrugging. Hermione rolled her eyes, and went back to thinking. As a girl, she wasn’t supposed to do the asking. Since Ron was still ignoring her, she wasn’t expecting him to ask her to the ball. Viktor Krum had been paying a bit of attention to her; but why?

“If Cho isn’t available, and Ginny isn’t either,” she said slowly, and Harry looked at her, “I guess you could always ask me. I don’t think anyone else will ask me.”

“Are you kidding?” Harry asked, his eyes wide. “You’re much better-looking since you’ve got older, _and_ you’re the Hogwarts Champion to boot! Just wait, and you’ll get a whole lot of boys asking you.”

“But they’d be asking me for all the wrong reasons,” Hermione said, considering her options. “I mean, the only ones who I know well enough to be comfortable with would be: you, possibly taken; Ron, who’s not speaking to me; Neville, a possibility; and Fred and George, where if one takes you, the other one takes you as well. Let’s be honest.”

“Maybe Neville _will_ ask you,” Harry said.

“But I’m so much older than everyone else in seventh year!” Hermione said. “If Viktor Krum asks me, I may end up going with him, just because I’m closer to his age.”

“What if Charlie comes along to the ball? Or Bill? Even Percy?” Harry suggested.

“I guess,” Hermione said. “Only I don’t know them as well, except Percy.”

“Anyway,” Harry continued. “Are you going to tell your parents about the competition?”

Hermione bit her lip. She’d eventually told Harry about what had happened when she went home for the holidays; he had been as shocked as her, but she had urged him not to tell anyone else about it. She hadn’t mentioned that Professor Snape knew as well.

“I guess I could go and visit them,” she said. “They have a right to know.”

“Of course they do!” Harry exclaimed, and they went back to doing their schoolwork a few minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, what happens when Hermione goes to see her parents?


	23. Visitors

“Miss Granger, the headmaster would like to see you in his office after dinner,” Minerva said, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. The girl looked up at her head of house, confused, but nodded. Was it something to do with the competition? Professor McGonagall looked so serious.

“What did you do now, `Mione?” Fred asked, grinning.

“Oh, she must have caught me hitting the Firewhiskey again,” Hermione replied, smirking. Fred and George laughed, while the rest of the Gryffindors who were listening looked astounded at her remark.

Minerva was close enough to have heard, and almost snorted. When she reached the staff table, after she sat down she told the rest of the teachers what Hermione had said, and they all roared with laughter. Even Severus found himself chuckling openly, which frightened all the students who noticed it.

“I confess, I didn’t know that Miss Granger had it in her,” Professor Flitwick said, wiping tears from his eyes. Most of the students were looking up at the table by now, wondering what had the teachers laughing.

“She’ll either be horrified or flattered that we were laughing over what she said,” Severus said, regaining his composure faster than anyone else. “What is it you need to see her about, Albus?”

Dumbledore sobered up, and told the others what was wrong. There was no more merriment from the staff table that night, and students would always dismiss the random laughter as a moment of insanity on the parts of the teachers.

“We’d better go now,” Dumbledore finally said. He, Minerva, and Severus went to his office, and Hermione joined them minutes later.

“What is it, Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked as she sat in front of his desk.

“I’m afraid that we have some bad news for you, Miss Granger,” he said. There was no twinkle in his eye. “But perhaps you should see it for yourself?”

“See what?” Hermione asked nervously, glancing at Professors McGonagall and Snape.

“Here,” Dumbledore said, indicating the Pensieve. All four of them leaned over the bowl, and dove into a memory that would haunt Hermione forever.

“This is my home,” she said as they all landed outside her house. She glanced over at the garage, and saw it open, with the old car there. “I thought they got a new one,” she said, looking at it with confusion written all over her face.

“Just watch,” Dumbledore said, as they all watched his Memory-Self ring the doorbell.

“Hello, Dumbledore,” a tall man said when he had opened the door.

“Kingsley,” the Memory-Headmaster said gravely. “Tell me what happened.”

“Come inside,” Kingsley said, and he held the door wide open. Memory-Dumbledore paused in the doorway, looking around outside. The real Dumbledore ushered Minerva, Severus, and Hermione inside.

“Inspired thinking, Albus,” Severus said drily, referring to the fact that Memory-Dumbledore had seen fit to keep the door open for them, though he was worried now. He had a very bad feeling about this memory.

“Well, I like to think that I have a certain amount of foresight,” Dumbledore said. “I try to give myself such concessions in case I have to look at my memories again later.”

Kingsley spoke to Memory-Dumbledore. “They’ve been missing for a number of months, but we were unable to find them. Finally, we got a message from an unknown source, saying that he—or she—had the Grangers hostage, and that we weren’t to inform Miss Granger until we had their say-so.”

There were tears in Hermione’s eyes by now, and Minerva had her arm around her favourite student. Severus glanced at them, trying to disguise his discomfort and concern, and Dumbledore watched all three of them, before returning his attention to the scene before him.

“Whoever it was closed the Grangers’ dental practice, and has been impersonating them, with the help of an accomplice.” Hermione gasped, and clapped her hands over her mouth. Severus stepped to her side without thinking.

“That explains their behaviour, including not picking me up at the station,” she whispered, moving forward to Kingsley. “Where are they? What’s happened to them?” she asked urgently, forgetting that he couldn’t hear her.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Memory-Dumbledore said.

“We got an owl last night saying that the Grangers had been returned to their place of residence, and that if we didn’t bring their daughter, Hermione Granger, that they would kill them.”

“ _No_ ,” Hermione moaned, dropping to her knees with a sob.

“Naturally, we couldn’t risk it,” Kingsley said. “It was clear that their intent would be to ambush her, ending with who knows what. Being Potter’s friend and all…”

“And a Muggleborn,” Memory-Dumbledore added.

“Precisely. As it turns out, they’d been dead for a few days anyway, so we were right to…”

“No!” Hermione screamed, tears saturating her cheeks, and her body shaking with heart-rending sobs. Severus knelt down beside her, and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him as the memory faded in the background. When they returned to the office, she was still holding onto him, heart-broken, as he held her close and stroked her back, trying his best to calm and comfort her.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said softly, but Hermione didn’t hear him, as she let the black of her Potions teacher’s cloak envelope her, blocking out any light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know. Happy now? Or not? Sorry I killed off Hermione’s parents, but everything will end well… I hope.
> 
> [New author note: I'd forgotten that I did this. But I may have undone it later in the story. Possibly.]


	24. How It Hurt

“I’m sorry, too,” Severus murmured into Hermione’s hair. “I wish I’d known. I should have guessed from what you told me in the Leaky Cauldron. At the time, I thought that it wasn’t the kind of behaviour you’d expect from parents, but with my own history, I figured that I was the last person to know about…”

“It’s okay, Professor,” Hermione said, her voice muffled where it was pressed against his chest. “Nothing anyone could have done. I know that.” The pain of her parents’ deaths was intense; she felt guilty for having thought badly of them when they had rejected her, even though she now knew that it hadn’t been them. She didn’t know why they had been impersonated. In truth, had anyone ever actually come to pick her up from King’s Cross?

“We’ll find out who did this, Hermione,” Minerva said, stroking the girl’s back—well, what she could stroke of it, as Severus was holding her tightly.

“And when we do…” Dumbledore began.

“They’ll pay,” Severus and Hermione said together. Dumbledore and Minerva looked at each other, startled.

“They’ll be turned over to the Ministry, and imprisoned in Azkaban for murder,” the headmaster said firmly, and Minerva nodded her head in agreement.

“I’ll take you to the dorms now, and you can have all of next week off classes,” she said soothingly.

“No, it’s fine,” Hermione said quietly, pulling her head away from Severus’ chest very reluctantly. “I need to do something to keep my mind off… them.” Nobody knew whether ‘them’ referred to her parents or their killers. She possibly meant both.

“I’ll escort Miss Granger,” Severus said firmly, letting go of her. Hermione sniffed a couple of times, and noticed, with a certain amount of embarrassment, that her Potions teacher’s robes were spotted with her tears. “It doesn’t matter,” he added, when she opened her mouth to apologise. She blushed. “Now come on. Take advantage of my uncustomary kindness. But not a word to anyone.” He winked as she took his arm, and they left, completely forgetting to say good night to Minerva and Dumbledore.

“Th-thank you, sir,” Hermione said as they walked along. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden.”

“What burden?” Severus asked, frowning down at her. “Honestly, Granger, if I thought you were being a burden I wouldn’t have offered to take you to bed—your bed. Your dorm. Er… you know what I mean.”

Hermione was too distressed by her situation to notice what he had said. Severus sighed in relief when he saw this, and they continued to walk in silence. He eventually cleared his throat, and Hermione looked up at him with a start.

“I haven’t been the best of teachers, I know,” he said, and he cleared his throat again. “It isn’t in my nature to be kind to anyone, or encouraging to anyone not in Slytherin house. It’s especially difficult when the smartest student just happens to be in Gryffindor.” He smirked at this, and Hermione stared at him. “I’m sorry for being so unsupportive…”

“Oh, Professor, it really doesn’t matter,” she said, interrupting him. “You’re hard on us for a reason: to make us better. Potions _is_ a dangerous subject, particularly with poor Neville in the room. Of course, it wouldn’t be nearly so dangerous if you were just nice to him, or at least didn’t frighten him into doing something stupid. There’s no room for mistakes around volatile substances.”

Severus thought over all of this. It didn’t explain, or excuse, the majority of his behaviour, but at least Hermione was trying to understand him; more to the point, she was defending him. Professor Snape! The evil head of Slytherin! He smiled, genuinely smiled, as she tightened her hold on his arm. But then he realised why.

“Hermione?” he asked desperately, as she sank to the floor.


	25. Infirmary Again

“What’s the matter?” Severus asked, shaking Hermione’s shoulder gently as she sat on the stone floor of the school, trembling uncontrollably.

“They’re… they’re dead,” she whispered, looking into the distance, her eyes unfocussed.

Shock, Severus thought, and he picked her up swiftly, forgetting that he could have just used magic to levitate. He carried her to the hospital wing, thankful that most of the students were in their dormitories by now, as he didn’t see any along the way. Not that he was in the right state of mind to notice anyone else at the moment. His sole intent was on getting Hermione to the infirmary so that Madame Pomfrey could administer a Calming Drought.

Not only had Severus forgotten that he could use magic, he also forgot that he was a Potions master, and could have just summoned some of the potion and given it to her himself.

“Poppy!” he called when he reached the infirmary. “Hermione’s gone into shock.”

“Albus warned me that might happen,” Madame Pomfrey said, coming out of her office and going over to the bed where Severus had laid her down gently. “Poor dear. Such a terrible thing to happen; her parents murdered.” She tutted as she checked Hermione all over, making sure that it was only shock that was making her shake so badly.

Severus, having regained his composure, found the right potion and brought it to the bed, where Madame Pomfrey tipped it down Hermione’s throat. Within moments, she had stopped trembling, and was just lying there calmly. She felt numb; she was now an orphan, and maybe it could have been prevented. Maybe if the Ministry…

“I’ll stay with her,” Severus said, never looking away from Hermione’s face as she fell asleep. He sat down on a chair beside the bed. The tone of his voice brooked no argument. Madame Pomfrey simply nodded, and closed the curtains around the bed part of the way.

“Then I’ll send a message to her housemates,” she said, but Severus wasn’t listening. He was instead thinking about the day when he had seen Hermione kissing Sirius, and the memory hurt him beyond reasonable thought. His hands gripped the sides of his chair like vices, and he wondered—not for the first time—why he was so affected by what he had seen, why he was so annoyed.

It was only a matter of seconds before Harry and Ron jumped out of the fireplace, closely followed by Ginny and Neville. They dashed to the bed, slowing down when they saw Severus there, looking angry as hell.

“Um… hello, Professor,” Harry said nervously. Severus glared at him, and then checked the time. He smirked.

“Out after hours, Potter?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Madame Pomfrey told us…”

“Did she give you express permission to leave your dormitories after curfew?”

“No, she…”

“Did she ask you to come here?”

“No, sir, but…”

“ _Then why are you here_?”

“Why are _you_ here, sir?” Ginny asked boldly, before mentally smacking herself when she remembered who she was talking to.

“I was there when she collapsed, and brought her here,” Severus said. “I can assure you that Miss Granger is well protected with me here.”

“Why would she need protection?” Neville asked, concerned for his friend.

“That’s… I’m not the one to tell you that,” Severus replied. “What it concerns… Miss Granger can tell you. It’s for her to say, not me.”

“What is it?” Ron asked. Severus just looked at him, and Ron turned white.

“As I have said, Weasley,” he told him in a deathly quiet voice, “I cannot tell you. You’ll just have to wait until Miss Granger can tell you herself.”

“When will that be, Professor?” Harry asked calmly, flexing his fingers slightly.

“Ask Madame Pomfrey. _Tomorrow_. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor each for being out of your tower after curfew,” he finished, smirking at their furious looks. They knew better than to argue, however, and left quietly.

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione murmured, and Severus jumped at the quiet voice. His eyes met hers, and he felt compelled to ask her something.

“Why did you kiss Black that day?” he said before he could stop himself.

“He wanted me to thank him,” she said. “So he kissed me. Just once. The only reason I kissed him back was because…” She trailed off, looking down at her hands.

“Because?” Severus prompted, and Hermione turned her gaze back to him.

“Well, I wanted to check to see if it was just a… whether I just h-have a thing for men with dark h-hair,” she said, blushing. Severus arched an eyebrow again.

“And?” he asked.

“I don’t,” she said, dropping her eyes again.


	26. When the Ball is Brought Up Again

“So, what _do_ you have a ‘thing’ for?” Severus asked. If she said that she preferred men with red or blonde hair, he might just hex himself out of his misery. Where did _that_ come from? he wondered.

“Well, I mean, it isn’t a _type_ ,” Hermione said, her brow furrowed. “No, not a type-thing. I’ve learnt that. No.”

“Oh.”

They both stayed silent for awhile, and before long, Hermione had dropped off to sleep again. Severus sighed, and sat back in the chair, grateful that the next day was a Saturday, and that it was a Hogsmeade weekend. That way, he didn’t have any classes to worry about, and could go without sleep for a night.

However, that wasn’t to be. He _did_ fall asleep eventually, only to wake when he fell off the chair. Shaking his head, and checking to make sure that he hadn’t woken Hermione with the thump, he settled himself under the covers of the bed next to her, and was soon once again in the land of nod.

He was still there when Madame Pomfrey woke him in the morning. Shaking himself, he tidied the covers, sat back in the chair beside Hermione, and waited for the inevitable—the arrival of her impossible comrades.

“`Mione!” Ron cried, rushing into the hospital wing first. Severus turned and sent him a glare that plainly said ‘Shut up’. They all quietened down, and the students stared in amazement as Severus gently touched Hermione’s shoulder and shook her, whispering, “Wake up, Miss Granger. You have visitors.”

Her eyelids fluttered as she woke, adjusting to the light in the infirmary. Once she felt sufficiently human again, she sat up slowly. Severus quickly propped up extra pillows behind her back, forgetting that she had only been there for shock, not for some serious injury. She smiled at him, which made him almost smile back. _Almost_. Harry cleared his throat, and Severus backed away from the bed with a scowl.

“I’ll tell the headmaster that you’ve improved,” he told Hermione, ignoring the others and Madame Pomfrey, and he swept out of the hospital wing.

“What happened to you last night?” Ron asked as they crowded around the bed.

“My…” Hermione paused, remembering why she was there. The tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry in front of her friends. “My parents were murdered by someone. The Ministry doesn’t know who, yet,” she said, as they all gasped in shock, “and I just collapsed in the corridor as I was returning to the common room.”

“So that’s what Dumbledore wanted you for,” Harry said.

“ _Professor_ Dumbledore,” she said, “and yes.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Ginny asked, and Hermione nodded. She indicated for them to sit down, and proceeded to tell them of the day she had returned from school, and the memory that Dumbledore had shown her. They were surprised yet again at Severus’ actions, when she told them how he had comforted her.

“No wonder he was short with us,” Neville said, and the others nodded just as Severus and Dumbledore entered the hospital wing.

“Hello, sirs,” Hermione said, as they approached.

“I’m glad to see that you have improved, Miss Granger,” the headmaster said, only a hint of a twinkle in his eyes. “We will all understand if you wish to withdraw from the tournament.”

“What, and leave Harry out in the cold?” Hermione asked, grasping her friend’s hand. “Never.”

“Anyway, we’ve got the Yule Ball to prepare for, now,” Ginny said, excited as she took Hermione’s other hand. “It’s going to be so fun! You’ll see, Hermione.”

The older girl didn’t look nearly so excited. “If you say so, Ginny.”

“C’mon, Hermione,” Ginny said, looking anxious.

“I thought I’d had this conversation.”

“Yes, with me,” Harry said. When the others looked confused, he explained. “She’s worried about having to be invited by someone, and has narrowed her list down to having to go with Krum. If he asks her, that is. Which he hasn’t yet. Or has he?”

“No.”

“When was all this?” Ron asked.

“You weren’t talking to me,” Hermione said grumpily, crossing her arms. “Being childish as usual.”

“I’m _not_ child…”

“Oh, yes you are!” Hermione and Severus both said. Everyone looked between the two of them, and those who could raise their eyebrows raised them.

“See? Professor Snape thinks so, too,” Hermione finally said, to Severus’ relief.

“I’ve been of that same opinion these last fear years,” he added, sneering at Ron.

“Anyway, I’m certainly feeling better now,” Hermione said, slinging her legs around and sliding off the bed. “I think I’m up to the trip to Hogsmeade. Who else is going?”

“Great! We can look for clothes!” Ginny said. “Neville’s asked me to the ball, so I need to find something since I can go, too.”

Hermione smiled at Neville as Ginny dragged her from the room. A pity, really. Neville had been one of the few possibilities for the ball. He, and the older Weasley brothers. That really _did_ just leave Viktor Krum.


	27. Krum?

“Busy today, isn’t it?” Ginny remarked, looking around Hogsmeade.

“People are shopping for the ball,” Hermione pointed out. “From all three schools. Of course it will be busy.”

“Her-mo-ninny,” a voice said, and the two girls whipped around. Viktor Krum was standing there, with a gaggle of girls behind him.

“Kr-Viktor,” Hermione said, inclining her head. “What do you think of Hogsmeade?”

“It is fine,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I wished to offer my con… er, condolences?” Hermione nodded. “For your parents’ death. It is a terrible thing. I hope you will still be competing?” Another nod. “I also wish that you would come with me to the Yule Ball. Will you?”

“Uh,” Hermione said, glancing down briefly. “It’s very nice of you to ask me, Viktor. Could I… think about it?”

“You wish to think about it?” Krum asked, frowning very slightly. Only Hermione noticed the miniscule movement of his eyebrows, and she felt affronted.

“Well, I hadn’t really had time to think about the ball that much lately,” she said icily, “what with my new status as an orphan. I will have to think about it.”

“If you do not wish to go, there are many other girls who would,” Krum said.

“Then take one of them,” Hermione said through clenched teeth. She knew precisely why he was asking her. It was bound to be something to do with the principal of his school, Igor Karkaroff. He probably wanted information on Hermione, as she was the competition. Maybe he even hoped to find out about Harry as well. She wasn’t going to play into their trap.

“Very well,” Krum said three seconds later. He bowed shortly, and returned to the crowd of girls.

“Probably going to put himself up for auction,” Hermione said sourly. Ginny looked at her in surprise.

“I thought… well, you said… oh, never mind,” she finally said at Hermione’s raised eyebrow.

“I don’t like his attitude,” she said. “I’d rather go with someone I get along with. Maybe one of Ron’s brothers could take me,” and she smiled. “I don’t know. I’ll see.”

“They’ll certainly be here for the ball,” Ginny said as they continued their walk to the clothing store. “I could suggest it to Mum, if you like.”

“We’ll just see what happens,” Hermione said. “Hell, Harry could take me. After all, the champions all have to go to the ball. In fact, I think I’ll suggest it to Harry. We’d only be going as friends, Gin,” she added hastily, noticing Ginny’s pained expression.

“I know,” Ginny said. “I just wish… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re lucky to be going with Neville,” Hermione said. “He’s a great friend, and from what I hear, his grandmother taught him to dance really well, so when it comes to dancing, there’ll be heaps of girls who’ll be jealous of you.”

“Really? You think so?” Ginny asked, her eyes lighting up.

“Absolutely! I don’t think Harry knows how to dance.”

“Then you’ll just have to teach him.”

“Teach who what?” a voice said, and the girls turned around.


	28. An Offer

“Oh, Professor Snape!” Hermione said. “Uh, we were just talking about the ball, sir.”

“What about it?” Severus asked, looking from one girl to the other.

“Well, Gin’s going with Neville, who knows how to dance, and if I go with Harry…”

“As a last resort,” Ginny added.

“Then we’ve got to make sure that he knows how to dance,” Hermione finished. “So Gin suggested that I teach him. We could get Neville to help, I suppose,” she added, turning to Ginny.

“Longbottom can dance and the Boy Wonder can’t?” Severus said. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Is there something you wanted, Professor?” Ginny asked. “We were just going to look at ball gowns.”

“Please, don’t let me keep you,” Severus said, standing aside. “Though Miss Granger, you could certainly do worse than go with Potter.”

“What, you mean Ron?” Hermione asked, smirking. “Joking, Gin!” she added.

“Nah, it’s all right. I know what you mean.”

“Weasley would certainly be a worse option,” Severus agreed. “You need someone older than you. What about Krum?”

“Just turned him down,” Hermione said, blushing.

“Well done, Granger,” he said approvingly. “Going against the grain. You’re far too intelligent for him.”

“The older Weasley boys would be okay,” Hermione continued.

“Yes,” Severus said, nodding slowly. “But Potter would certainly not be a last resort.”

“How true, Professor,” she said.

“After all, wouldn’t _I_ be your last resort?” Severus asked, arching an eyebrow. Ginny and Hermione gaped at him. The older girl recovered first.

“Are you… are you asking me to the ball, sir?” she asked.

“Did I say that?” he replied. “I’m your teacher, Miss Granger. However, if you need someone to teach dancing, Professor McGonagall will be holding classes for everyone, so you needn’t worry about… private tuition.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said, and Ginny nodded her agreement and thanks.

“But if you need an escort to the ball, as a last resort,” Severus said, slowly, leaning forward to whisper in Hermione’s ear, “you know where to find me.”

He walked away, wondering why the hell he did that, leaving the girls staring at his back.

“W… wow,” Ginny said. “Did he just…?”

“Yes, he did,” Hermione said. “And believe me: he’s far from a last resort. If Harry and the Weasley boys fail me, he’s top of the list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indeed. Why the hell did he do that? Just think of the controversy. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!


	29. The Weasley Boys

Harry opened the egg, and an awful wailing sound came from within.

“Close it, close it!” Ron bellowed, and Harry obliged.

“Bet yours sounds the same, `Mione,” George said, and Hermione nodded.

“I’ve never heard anything like it before,” she said. “I asked Professor Sprout—nowhere near the greenhouses, naturally—and she’d never heard anything like it before from any plants. I asked Hagrid, and he hadn’t heard it before either. It can’t be a banshee’s wail, because that’s fatal, isn’t it?”

“You’ve done all this without asking us?” Ron said.

“I’m so used to doing research for the both of you that it just came naturally,” Hermione told him, frowning at his ingratitude. “I didn’t want Harry to listen to it any more than necessary. I’m surprised that he hadn’t heard it before now, to tell you the truth.”

“Well, I _did_ try it once,” Harry admitted. “But I thought that maybe it contained a message that only everyone else could hear, and that the challenge was supposed to be something to do with group work.”

“Good thinking, but obviously not the case,” Hermione said. Harry beamed at the praise.

“So do you think you know what it is yet?” he asked.

“I’m still looking into magical creatures,” she replied. “I’ve got as far as the ‘l’s. If you all stay reasonably quiet, then I can get on with reading, and perhaps come up with something.”

“You borrowed that out of the library, did you?” Fred asked, looking over Hermione’s shoulder at the book.

“Yes,” Hermione said, skimming through the pages with her usual speed. She was soon so absorbed in her reading that she didn’t notice when a crowd of people came into the common room via the portrait.

“Hermione, dear!” a voice exclaimed, and Hermione nearly dropped her book in shock.

“Mrs. Weasley!” she cried, jumping up into the woman’s arms. The motherly hug, something she had so missed from her own mother, brought her parents to mind, and she began to cry. Everyone looked at her sympathetically. Ginny had had the foresight to send an owl to her mother, telling her about Hermione’s parents.

“There, there, dear; calm down,” she said, stroking Hermione’s back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Hermione said, sniffling. “It just… it hits me from… from time to time. That’s all.”

“I understand, love,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Here, Hermione,” someone said, and Hermione was passed over to Bill, who gave her a great big bear hug. They had only met a few times, but still liked each other well enough. It was the same with Charlie, who hugged Hermione next. Even Percy hugged her.

“I’m only here for a visit,” he told the others. “Then I’m needed back at the Ministry. But when I was told about your parents,” he said to Hermione, “I thought I should come along with the others. For support.”

“Thank you, Percy,” Hermione said, running the back of her hand over her eyes. “It was very kind of you. Ever the Head Boy, eh?” Everyone laughed, more at the fact that Hermione called Percy ‘kind’, rather than her last comment.

“Anyway, we’re here to take care of you now,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Arthur will be here for the ball, of course. He’s looking forward to seeing you again.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hermione said, nodding. Then they all turned around when they heard Harry’s voice.

“Hermione, what about mermaids?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! Harry’s figured something out on his own; well, kind of with Hermione’s help, but he took the opportunity to look through the book, and the initiative he shows in doing that speaks a lot. Doesn’t it?


	30. Of Course, Harry!

“Mermaids?” Hermione asked, having temporarily forgotten her research.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Look: under the water, their voices sound like singing; above the water, it sounds like screeching.”

“You’re right, Harry,” Hermione said, taking the book from him. “Then… then we should be listening to these underwater!”

“So let’s go, then,” he said, tugging her on the hand.

“What, together?” Hermione grinned.

“Use the prefect’s bathroom,” Percy suggested. “Obviously, not after curfew, which it is right now,” he added when everyone looked at him in surprise. “But tomorrow. Just ask one of the prefects. The bath’s big enough for lots of people to go swimming.”

“Certainly not risking the lake,” Hermione said. “Thank you, Percy.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said, almost blushing. “Well, I should probably go now.”

“We’re staying at Hogwarts,” Charlie said, grinning at Hermione. She smiled back.

“Glad to hear it,” she said.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry said, touching her arm. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Sure, Harry,” she said. “We’ll be back,” she added as they went to the portrait hole to leave the common room. “What is it?” she asked when they were alone in the corridor.

“Look, I’m a bit nervous about going to the ball, since I can’t dance,” Harry began.

“Well, we’re going to get group lessons,” Hermione told him.

“I know,” Harry said. “I don’t want to go with anyone I don’t know, and I know how uncomfortable you are about going with a stranger. I asked Cho Chang, but she’s going with someone else, so I thought… would you like to go with me?”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, “of _course_ I’ll go with you. I’m so relieved you asked. I was worried about going with anyone else, particularly since I turned down Krum.”

“Great,” he said, and he gave her a big hug.

Watching from the shadows, Severus scowled. So it really wasn’t dark-haired men in general. It was just the one boy with dark hair that she fancied. Harry Potter.

A sharp throb in his arm distracted him, and he stared in horror at the tattoo of the Dark Mark, that seemed to have somehow re-activated. What did it mean? He had to see Dumbledore immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye gads, does that man jump to conclusions. Convenient, really, that there are so many male characters in the series who have dark hair. Terrific for story-telling purposes, ain’t it?


	31. A Bath in the Bathroom

“Okay, so we’re all here?” Harry asked. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all nodded. “Then let’s go!”

With a terrific splash, they all leapt into the giant bath in the prefect’s bathroom. One of the Ravenclaw prefects, who they had met in Hogsmeade, gladly gave them the password, as the Hogwarts champions were doing so well in the tournament so far.

Deciding that Harry and Hermione shouldn’t be left alone in a bath, no matter how big, Ron had insisted on accompanying them, despite Hermione’s protestations that there really was nothing going on. To protect Hermione’s reputation, Ginny insisted on going with them as well, to Hermione’s great relief.

So there they all were, splashing about in the water, eggs at the ready. They had brought both, just in case they said different things. Hermione and Ginny placed Bubblehead Charms on all four of them, and then they all dipped in under the water, where Harry opened his egg.

After the message, Hermione ‘played’ her egg, which sang the same thing. They were both impressed that Harry’s deduction about the mermaids was correct, but were now worried about what might be taken by the mermaids.

“What if it’s a person, and not an object?” Ginny asked.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t allow anyone to get killed… would he?” Ron said.

“People have died in the competition before,” Hermione said.

“Then we’ve got to do some research before the big day, haven’t we?” Harry asked.

There was complete agreement, and they all got out of the bath. After drying off their swimming gear where they stood, they slipped their robes back on, and hurried out, hair still wet, carrying their towels.

“Well, well, well,” came a deep voice from nearby. They all whipped around, and saw Severus standing there, a smirk on his face but something unreadable in his eyes.

“Professor,” Hermione said, her voice trembling.

“Having fun, are we?” he asked, deliberately noting their wet hair, the towels, and their bare legs poking out from under their robes. “Is there anything we need to worry about? The virtue of Hogwarts, for example?”

“Why, you…” Ron began, but for a wonder Harry held him back.

“Let’s get back to the dorms,” he said in a low voice. Ginny and Hermione nodded, and tugged on Ron’s arm, too.

“All together?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. Ginny growled, which secretly amused him.

“No, Professor,” Hermione said in mock horror. “Of _course_ not. We were all planning to get dressed in the common room, while most of the students are in Hogsmeade.”

This girl’s getting worse, Severus thought, remembering her remark about the Firewhiskey. It must be the bad effect her idiotic friends have on her. Pity she was never in Slytherin…

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said out loud, and left them all there, looking after him.

“Is Snape going soft?” Ron wondered, a little too loudly.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for your disrespect towards a teacher, Weasley,” the Potions teacher called back, rounding a corner. Ginny hit her brother behind the head, and they went on their way to Gryffindor tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what was Severus doing in the corridor just then? We’ll find out in the next chapter… See you there!


	32. Skulking in the Corridor

Severus tried to kid himself that the Dark Mark’s sudden reawakening hadn’t affected him in any way. If Karkaroff could brush it off so easily, so could he. Right? Anyway, he had far worse problems at the moment. That damn ball, for example, and Dumbledore’s insistence that all the teachers attend. No matter how many times Severus pointed out that surely some teachers needed to be on hall duty, it was to no avail.

“You, most of all, need to socialise more, my boy,” Dumbledore told him, twinkling as he said it.

If he had only known that the only person Severus wanted to socialise with was a student, perhaps the headmaster would have thought differently. But it hardly mattered. She was in love with Harry Potter.

But still he had to see her. He wasn’t surprised that she had gone to other teachers for help over that golden egg—she had done it out of habit as much as anything else—and wanted to know what she had come up with. Theorising with somebody else was something that Severus got a kick out of, and she was one of the few people he could really have an intelligent conversation with. At least, he was sure she was; it wasn’t as though he had actually tried. And why would he?

So when he heard her asking a Ravenclaw prefect if she could have a bath in the prefect’s bathroom, to do research for the next contest, he was annoyed to see her heading back to the castle with Potter. He was too angry to see the two youngest Weasleys walking with them.

Out of his duty as a teacher, he decided that he had better follow, and stop any ‘funny business’ that may be detrimental to Hogwarts’ reputation. Unfortunately, also out of his duty as a teacher, he had to stay in Hogsmeade until the rest of the students were ready to return.

She came out of the bathroom with the rest of them, and he was slightly embarrassed to see that there were four students, not two. He was even more embarrassed to see her bare legs underneath her robes. After docking points from Gryffindor, he cheered up, and returned to his office.

Once there, he got drunk. Severus Snape never got drunk. He had alcohol around, certainly, but he only ever drank in moderation. When he had been a spy, it was never a smart idea to lose your control like that. Now, however, he was in dire need of a little pick-me-up… and had many more than one.

“Go and see… Regulus Black!” he told his doe Patronus. He kept sending messages to people, who must have been amused to realise that he was drunk, though they didn’t know why. However, when he ordered the doe to go to Regulus Black, it just stood there, looking at him.

“Ah, of course,” he said seriously. “Dead, isn’t he? Uh…” Then he grinned evilly. “Go and see Petunia Dursley, and tell her that… that her contraceptive potion’s ready!”

The Patronus leapt through the wall without a sound, and returned quite awhile later, having created a hell of a stir at Number Four Privet Drive. As the magic hadn’t been performed in front of the Muggles, however, the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t be called in, though Severus didn’t think of that until Dumbledore reprimanded him later.

“Uh…” the Potions teacher said, his drunken mind searching for a name. All the teachers at Hogwarts—and some of the Slytherin students—had got messages from him by now, so who was left?

“Send a message to Hermione Granger’s parents… tell them that I love her,” Severus sang, falling off his chair as he fell asleep. He never noticed the Patronus disappear for the last time through the wall of the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Spooked? Well, you shouldn’t be. Clearly they’re alive. Unfortunately, Hermione doesn’t find out yet. You’ll see when she does, though.


	33. Preparing for the Ball

The night of the Yule Ball had arrived at Hogwarts. Funnily enough, while Harry was escorting Hermione, Fleur was going with Krum. In other words, all the champions were paired off with each other.

“That’s the advantage of having two female and two male competitors, isn’t it?” Harry remarked, and Hermione giggled.

“What, there’s only the one advantage?” she asked as they walked along past the other students.

“Well, we’re running the risk of this turning into a more dangerous version of _Battle of the Sexes_ ,” Harry said, and Hermione laughed again. She was nervous. This was the right thing to do; much as she was really regretting not accepting Severus’ offer, it would have caused too much trouble, right?

Right.

“Shall we dance, Hermione?” Harry asked, spinning her out onto the floor, mirroring Krum and Fleur.

“I’d love to, Harry,” Hermione said, curtsying as he bowed. Soon, they were a whirl of black dress robes (Harry) and a red dress with silver trimming (Hermione). As she spun around, the pleats of her dress showed an emerald green fabric underneath the folds of red.

Severus watched them dance. Hermione had laughed at something Potter had said. Twice. He ground his teeth as he stood behind the other teachers, scowling at the ball in general, and at the Hogwarts champions in particular. It had taken some days for him to live down his night of drinking. When he had woken, Madame Pomfrey had been bending over him, tut-tutting. Apparently, his Patronus had gone to her (eventually), and alerted her to his… situation. Yes. It definitely took far too long for the staff members to forget.

Now, he felt a headache coming on as more and more couples took to the floor; and judging by the number of incompetent dancers, he was increasingly glad that he had opted to go alone. He was far more likely to live this way.

To his surprise, Longbottom really _was_ dancing brilliantly, and there were many girls standing on the sidelines, watching him with their mouths open. Potter, unfortunately, was actually doing quite well. Clearly, if someone had a partner worth dancing for, it was easy enough to learn. But he still wanted to dance with Granger.

Faint heart never won fair lady, his head told him. Even though I don’t want to win her. Really. I just want to dance with her.

At the end of the third dance, Hermione sat down next to Ginny, who had surrendered Neville—with some reluctance—to a girl from Hufflepuff.

“Told you he was good,” Hermione said, and she had some water.

“You didn’t actually know,” Ginny replied. “But you’re right. He’s great.”

“Is love in the air?” Hermione asked, and Ginny blushed.

“I sincerely hope not,” someone said, and the girls turned to see their Potions teacher standing behind them, resplendent in his black dress robes. They both gaped when they saw just how good he looked, but a raised eyebrow from him was all it took for them to pull themselves together.

“What’s wrong with love, Professor?” Hermione finally said.

“Because it can lead to the bushes outside, which disrupts the… fun… for the teachers,” he replied with a sneer.

“Fun? For you, sir?” Ginny asked boldly. Severus chuckled at her question, which again shocked the girls.

“Fun, for me, is docking points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley,” he said, lowering his voice. “So don’t tempt me.”

“Sir,” she said meekly, sinking back in her chair, looking relieved when Harry came over to them.

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione said. Harry had been dancing with Fleur, who had tired of Krum very quickly. “What’s up?”

“Just coming to ask for a dance,” he said, smiling.

“Why, how kind of you to ask Miss Weasley,” Severus said, and Harry looked surprised for only a split second.

“Ginny’s a friend,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I ask her? Unless, of course, she’s waiting for Neville to return,” he added, and Ginny shook her head emphatically. She took Harry’s hand, and he helped her up. As they started to walk to the floor, Hermione turned back to her professor.

“Meanwhile,” he said, and she noticed that he had his hand out. Looking down at it in amazement, she looked back up at him, and asked one question.

“Sir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a disappointing question? Still, who wouldn’t blame her for being surprised out of her mind? Of course, her ‘question’ leaves it wide open for Severus to make some sarcastic remark at the start of the next chapter, so hurrah!


	34. Just a Dance

“I was unaware that you had never seen a hand before, Granger,” Severus remarked, as Hermione continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. “Look, do you want to dance or not?”

“Oh… uh, yes, sir,” she said, and they walked, hand-in-hand, onto the dance floor, standing not far from Ginny and Harry. Ron and Lavender Brown were nearby as well, and they all looked gobsmacked when they saw Hermione’s dance partner. However, their attention was snatched away as soon as the music began, and they all started to waltz.

“When did you learn to dance, Professor?” Hermione dared to ask as they swept around the room. The unusual couple were drawing a lot of eyes, including some very undesirable people.

“I learnt when I was younger,” he said shortly, but seeing the curious look in her eyes, he sighed, and explained. “I learnt because at least when I was at a dance, some girls, the ones who really could dance, would have a decent partner, and I wouldn’t feel so… left out.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Well, mission accomplished!”

“When did _you_ learn to dance?” he asked.

“When I was younger… you know how I’m a Muggleborn? Well, because I could do things other kids couldn’t, I had to try and find ‘normal’ things to do, things where I wasn’t likely to make ‘weird’ things happen.” Severus snorted. “It’s true. I took lessons in dance, riding, swimming, music… As many things as I could get my hands on, so to speak. Being dentists, my parents could afford it. Unfortunately, because you can’t really learn any of those things just by reading, I didn’t last long with any of them. But the dancing came back to me when we started the group lessons in preparation for the Yule Ball, so I guess some things never leave you, do they, Professor?”

Severus just shook his head, and they remained silent for the rest of the dance. He led her back to the table where she had been sitting, bowed, and went back to join the rest of the teachers who weren’t dancing. They all started to pepper him with questions; and at the same time, Hermione’s friends were interrogating her, too.

“It was just a dance, just _one_ dance,” Hermione said, her eyes wide. “Why can’t I dance with a teacher? Other students are doing it.”

“Other students aren’t dancing with the bat of the dungeons,” Ron hissed.

“Oh, grow up, Ronald,” Hermione said, feeling close to tears. When she mentioned her parents during the dance, it had affected her slightly. Maybe he had noticed it, and that’s why they hadn’t talked anymore. Of course, maybe it had something to do with the fact that they never took their eyes off each other.

“He’s right, Hermione,” Harry said, and he chewed his lower lip.

“What, you expected me to say ‘no’ to a teacher?” she asked, trying to smile.

“Actually,” Harry said, turning to Ron, “ _she’s_ right. Hermione’s just a girl who cain’t say no.”

“You _know_ that song?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed. When she had been learning music, she had become addicted to musicals.

“Mrs. Figg likes to play Rodgers and Hammerstein music,” he replied with a shrug, referring to his Squib next-door neighbour. Former neighbour, actually, but still friend.

“Glad to hear it,” Hermione said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Ron said fiercely, and the others looked at him again. “You were _dancing_ with _Snape_.”

“That’s _Professor_ Snape, Ron,” she said, standing up angrily. With a whirl of her dress, she stormed out of the hall, closely followed by her friends.

“What are you doing? Where are you going, `Mione?” Ron asked, suddenly feeling very repentant.

“I’m going to bed,” Hermione said icily, rounding on him. “Thank you for ruining my evening with your childishness, Ronald Weasley. Thank you _very_ much.” She swept up the stairs, the tears now escaping down her cheeks.

“It’s all Snape’s fault,” Ron said mutinously.

“Ron, don’t be like that,” Ginny admonished him. “It was very kind of Professor Snape to dance with Hermione, so she didn’t have to sit there alone. I didn’t see _you_ asking her to dance, after all.”

“She’s our friend,” Ron said.

“I went to the ball with her,” Harry said quietly. “You couldn’t even ask her just once?”

“Well, I…”

“Loitering in the Entrance Hall, I see,” Severus said, and they all jumped.

“N-no, Professor,” Ginny said, blushing, hoping that he hadn’t heard their conversation; she was never quite sure when it came to Professor Snape. He probably knew as much about the goings on in Hogwarts as Professor Dumbledore did, only Dumbledore was far more lenient, as a rule.

“Then either follow Miss Granger, or rejoin the other students,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the ball. So they returned to the Great Hall, still bickering quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione leaves the dance in tears again, only this time for a different reason; oh, I do so love doing parallels such as this! Sigh.


	35. The Next Morning

At the start of Hermione’s time-travelling adventures, she had just been through a patchy time with Ron in 1997/98. When she jumped back in time, he and Harry were in the process of ignoring her. During the next year so far, she and Harry had both been ignored by him, because of the Goblet of Fire debacle. Now, it was her turn to ignore him, and she was going to do it with far more grace and decorum than he ever had; well, she’d try to, anyway. Yes. Elegant ignoring. That was the plan.

But she soon found that, with the number of times Ron tried to apologise to her the morning after the ball, it would just be easier to be an Ice Queen instead. After her repeated refusals to accept his apologies, he went off in a huff, and she was able to return to her homework. She could now also look forward to Christmas. She would have to spend it at Hogwarts. Again, the thought of her dead parents depressed her, and she found herself wandering the hallways alone that afternoon.

“Miss Granger,” a voice said, and Hermione asked herself why she kept encountering her Potions professor.

“Hello, sir,” she said, the misery in her voice making him frown.

“What, disappointed to see me? Had a row with Potter?”

“Neither,” she said, leaning against a column. She crossed her arms in front of her, glaring at the floor. “It’s Ron. Being a childish ass, as per usual. He was bad last night, and is downright terrible today. Surely he should have… oh, well, perhaps I behaved a bit badly, too.”

“When?” he asked sharply. “I hope you don’t mean during our dance. You did nothing improper. Let’s be honest; why would you do anything improper with me?” he asked, grinning evilly. She didn’t notice.

“No,” she said. “I meant this morning. I was set on ignoring him, then changed my anger tactics, and now he’s ignoring me instead, and I’m walking the hallways, thinking about my parents, and utterly miserable.”

“Oh; I see,” he said. “I never really said that I was sorry for their death, did I?”

“You may have done, Professor,” she said, wiping a hand across her face. “I’m afraid I don’t remember. But you comforted me when I needed it, and that means so much more than empty words.”

“I’m glad I didn’t upset you, then,” he said, and with a nod, he continued down the corridor, thinking about how she hadn’t been disappointed to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does it all mean? That’s what I’d like to know…


	36. Confusion and Research

Hermione didn’t reveal her confusion over her Potions teacher to anyone. She was afraid of what they might say. Instead, she decided to concentrate on being worried about the next contest. She was happy that she had at least learnt swimming, but knew that she must find a way to stay underwater for a long period of time—and a way to find what she had lost. Some sort of Location Spell, perhaps?

Madame Pince was able to help. She found many books for Hermione on surviving underwater. While they were useful, many of the methods of breathing underwater involved potions, which not only involved hard-to-find ingredients, but some required two pairs of hands to complete the potion.

Professor Snape might help, she thought, but then dismissed the thought just as quickly.

Besides, some of the potions lasted for more than an hour, and she’d have to brew an antidote as well so she wouldn’t be stuck looking like… well, whatever she would look like.

There was always the Bubblehead Charm, which would last for an indefinite amount of time; very handy when she had such a long time to be underwater. Of course, with any luck she’d be out in much less than an hour. She could even try to learn how to communicate with underwater creatures, so that they could help her find her ‘treasured possession’. She wasn’t sure if she could sing in ‘mer-talk’.

She took pages of notes, including a reference list which she could accidentally-on-purpose leave somewhere for Harry to find. She had probably broken some rule or other by helping him with the egg; but then, he helped her, too, so it was only right.

“Done,” she said, closing the final book. She returned the books to the shelves manually, enjoying the feel of them as they slid through her hands into place.

When Hermione returned to the common room, she sat in the armchair by the fire, and waited for an opportunity to ‘give’ Harry the booklist. She realised that it would be difficult to just leave it lying around, as another student may find the list and give it back to her, spoiling her plan. Maybe if she just left it in one of Harry’s books? Or slip it under the pillow in his bed?

“I’ll just give it to him,” she finally decided.

“Give what to who?” Ginny asked, scaring Hermione out of the chair.

“Oh, just this list to Harry,” she said, and then an idea came to her. “Ginny?” she asked casually, and Ginny immediately went on the alert.

“Ye-es?” she asked warily.

“Thank you for finding this list,” Hermione said, pushing the parchment into Ginny’s hands with a significant look. “Harry will be so grateful that you found it; it’s very important for the next part of the tournament, I think. He’s probably been searching for it everywhere.”

“Of course,” Ginny said, cottoning on quickly. “He’s so used to doing research for himself that he just can’t get over the habit, can he?”

“No,” Hermione said, and she winked, and sat back down into the armchair, smirking.

Harry came into the common room some minutes later, and Ginny, who had been lounging in the other fireside chair, leapt up.

“Harry,” she said, moving forward and ignoring her brother, who just glared at Hermione’s back. “I found that list you were looking for.”

“List?” Harry asked, glancing down at it confused. He realised what the list of book titles meant. “Oh, of course. Thanks, Ginny. I’m so grateful that I remembered to write all of these books down so that I could look at them in the library… again.”

Hermione smiled to herself as Harry trotted out of the room right away, with Ron trailing behind, confused as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author note (you could tell I was fed up with people at the time):
> 
> There will definitely be some people out there who complain about this chapter, what with Hermione helping Harry yet again. There will be complaints about the fact that “Clearly she thinks [that] he’s helpless” and “Yet again, Hermione comes to the rescue” and “Give Harry a chance to show that he’s got brains, too”.
> 
> Well, those who will undoubtedly complain: I. Don’t. Care. Anymore.
> 
> Oh, and Harry still won the first contest, if anyone was interested. I’ve decided that Hermione was second, Fleur was third, and Krum was last. Ha!
> 
> Ah, the delights of subtext…


	37. Underwater World

The day of the second contest was bright and sunny, although because of British weather, it doubtless wouldn’t last. Still, rain wouldn’t matter to the four people who would be underwater.

Hermione found herself praying at the table that morning, silently of course, and it wasn’t just the ‘grace’ that she was saying; she was praying that her parents would be looking down on her, proud of her achievements so far. Particularly her mother. It was Mrs. Granger who had helped her daughter learn swimming when Hermione was simply petrified of the water. Yes. She missed her mother the most, and felt it keenly that day.

“Buck up, `Mione,” Harry said, shovelling his third slice of toast into his mouth, thankfully using knife and fork to cut it first. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Where’s Ron?” Ginny asked.

“He probably wants to avoid speaking to me this morning, and will just show up later to see Harry off,” Hermione said bitterly, still peeved at his childish behaviour. “And wish him good luck.”

“Well, I’ll wish you good luck in his stead,” Ginny said, and Hermione smiled at her younger friend.

Sure enough, the redhead gave Hermione a big hug moments before she had to jump into the water. Harry and Hermione were both using a variation on the Bubblehead Charm that they had found in one of the books; it was specifically for underwater use, and only activated when the person was underwater. It would last three hours, two minutes and fifty-six seconds. It deactivated out of water, so they didn’t have to think about performing a counter-charm. They would both also use a spell that worked something like flippers on their feet, which was again a spell that didn’t required a counter-charm.

Last of all, if one of them found the missing objects—assuming that they were all together—then they would send a Patronus to lead the other. It wasn’t really cheating when they were just trying to survive a dangerous competition.

Ron never showed up to wish Harry good luck; but he was so busy saying goodbye to Ginny that none of them noticed. All Hermione could think as the two kissed was: It’s about time.

Once underwater, Harry and Hermione separated, hoping that they would meet again soon. With the ‘flippers’ on, they moved quickly, breathing normally as though they were just in the world above. After a quarter of an hour, Harry saw the four missing people. As soon as he saw Ron’s red hair, he sent his Patronus to Hermione.

When he got closer, he got such a shock that he couldn’t move for several seconds. Once he recovered, he spent the time waiting for Hermione looking for a way to cut the ropes that were binding the ‘treasures’ in place. He found some nice sharp rocks.

Hermione swam up to him five minutes later, and Harry dismissed his Patronus.

“Good find, Harry,” she mouthed.

“Prepare yourself, Hermione,” he mouthed back, and she was confused, until she saw what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is Hermione’s treasured possession? Can you guess? The possibilities are pretty clear, though, aren’t they?
> 
> The name of this chapter is dedicated to this place in Mooloolaba. Underwater World is absolutely fabulous; the best part is the huge tank with sharks, fish, sting-rays, and all these other marine creatures—plus coral—where it’s got a moving walkway underneath. You can stand on the walkway, and travel along slowly while sharks swim over you, behind thick glass, of course. You can also get seal kisses in the show area, and there are otters, and you can swim with dolphins, I think. All sorts. I love Underwater World.


	38. The End of Contest Number Two

“M-mother?” she whispered. Harry handed her one of the rocks, and they both swam forward. Hermione could barely think as she methodically cut away at the ropes, releasing her mother’s body. “You go,” she mouthed to Harry, who nodded, and swam off with Ron. Hermione set off some moments later, remembering that time was of the essence.

Was the person whose hand she was holding really her mother? Was it some nasty game that was part of the contest, like some psychological test? In which case, it was in really bad taste. Perhaps it was just a Boggart—but why would a Boggart of her dead mother be one of her treasures?

There was only one way to find out what was going on, and that was to get out of the water and see what would happen.

On the way, she saw Fleur being attacked by some creatures; they were Grindylows, Hermione eventually realised. She sent a spell their way, and they left Fleur, who smiled gratefully at Hermione. The Gryffindor pointed out the way to the merpeople’s lair, and the French girl swam off.

When Hermione broke the surface of the water, she gasped for air, feeling the spell leave her immediately.

“I need some help here!” she called out, but thankfully Harry had alerted the professors to the situation, and Severus was waiting there to pull her out. Mrs. Granger had regained consciousness as soon as Hermione pulled her out of the water, and Severus helped her up, too.

“Mrs. Granger, I presume,” he said, a smile threatening to break out on his face. As soon as he spoke, Hermione’s mother looked at him strangely, as she had recognised the voice from the Patronus that he had sent. But of course, he didn’t remember sending the Patronus to the Grangers, so he didn’t notice anything amiss.

“Who are you?” she asked, frowning.

“Is it really you, mother?” Hermione asked hoarsely, and Mrs. Granger turned to her daughter.

“Of course it’s me, Hermione,” she said. “Why wouldn’t it be? And more to the point, where am I? Even _more_ to the point, why weren’t you home for Christmas?”

“Why didn’t you… I thought you were dead,” Hermione said, her voice suddenly dropping.

“You what?” Mrs. Granger asked, but then she started shivering as a breeze blew up around them. Dumbledore draped a large towel around her shoulders, and she thanked him.

“Th-the Ministry said that you w-were _d-dead_ ,” Hermione whimpered, as Severus put a towel around her, smoothing it down unnecessarily. Mrs. Granger noticed this, but didn’t comment. Yet.

“Well, they were wrong,” she said. “We went to King’s Cross Station, but you weren’t there.”

“I waited, but you didn’t come, and then I went home, and y-you told me that because I looked older, because I _am_ older…”

“Perhaps this conversation would be better continued at Hogwarts?” Dumbledore suggested. Minerva, Severus, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Granger all walked back to the school, where all would be explained.


	39. Mr. Granger is Fetched

“I need my husband to be here, too,” Mrs. Granger said when they were all seated in Dumbledore’s office. The headmaster nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “Severus? Will you floo there and retrieve him?”

Severus nodded, and threw some of the green floo powder into the flames. He disappeared with a ‘whoosh’, and they all waited in silence until he returned with a frantic Mr. Granger, who threw his arms around his wife when he saw that she was safe.

“Hello, darling,” he said, also embracing Hermione, who was increasingly flustered by everything that was going on. “How are you?”

“I’m alive, so far,” she muttered, and sat back in the armchair that Minerva had summoned for her. “But I want to know what’s happened.”

“She thought we were dead,” Mrs. Granger told her husband simply, and he was astonished.

“But we went to the station on time, and you weren’t there. We didn’t know how to get in touch with you the magic way; and when it was obvious that you weren’t returning home for the holidays, we accepted those tickets that the next door neighbour had offered to us,” he finished.

“Tickets?” Severus asked sharply, looking up.

“Yes; we went away for a couple of months, to Australia,” Mrs. Granger replied. Again, she gave Severus a strange look, only he noticed it this time. What had he done? Had she noticed the way he put the towel around her daughter? Feeling strange himself by now, he looked away.

“It was a good holiday,” Mr. Granger said, trying to cheer everyone up. “Honestly. Two and a half months seemed to fly, and it was January before we knew it!”

“January?” the teachers and students chorused.

“Yes, Janu… oh dear,” Mrs. Granger said. “But we were there to pick you up. I remember. There was a bad road accident on the way back, which is why we took so long to return. I’m _sure_ it…”

“I’m not sure of _anything_ anymore,” Mr. Granger grumbled, massaging his temples.

“I think you may have been Confunded,” Dumbledore said gravely. “I don’t see the purpose in all of this: making Hermione feel abandoned, then unwanted; then making her think that she was an orphan; and now you turn out to be alive.”

“Whoever it is will pay,” Harry said angrily. Severus snorted.

“Just what were you planning to do, Potter? And how were you going to find whoever’s been playing these psychological games on Miss Granger? Do tell me; I’m intrigued to know.”

Harry ground his teeth as he glared at his Potions teacher. “I didn’t say that _I’d_ be the one to make them pay, _sir_. Clearly, whoever it is has never met an angry Hermione. You should try interrupting her while she’s in frantic-study-mode. _Then_ tell me that you wouldn’t be scared of her.”

Severus was amused by the thought of an angry Hermione, but didn’t show his amusement. He just raised an eyebrow expressively, and turned to the headmaster.

“Can you view the memories of Muggles in the Pensieve?” he asked, and Dumbledore nodded, his customary beam returning.

“Why, of course, Severus! That’s it! What I mean to say,” he said, recovering from his quick delight, “is that I’m sure it’s worth a go. I’ve never tried it before—naturally—but I’m always up for experimentation.”

“I’ll remember that,” Severus and Minerva muttered at the same time, making everyone else laugh.

“Sir, if I may?” Dumbledore asked, approaching Mr. Granger, who resigned himself to being subjected to a magical experiment, and waited patiently. Dumbledore pressed his wand to Mr. Granger’s forehead, and when a silvery substance appeared at the end, he took the memory over to the Pensieve, and stirred it in. He indicated for everyone to follow him, as they dove into the memory.


	40. An Unmemorable Villain

They went through several of the Granger’s memories, and even Hermione’s memories, before dinnertime. All came to the same conclusion: while there was evidently a Confundus Charm placed on her parents, neither they nor Hermione had seen anyone suspicious; everyone in each of the memories looked different. Of course, someone could still have been using Polyjuice potion.

Severus admitted that there was some ingredients missing from his stores, but since the same thing had happened some years ago—here he looked at Hermione, Harry, and Ron—and since the culprits hadn’t been caught back then, he had decided to investigate it later.

“Well, now’s as good a time as any,” Dumbledore told him, and Severus nodded. He then nodded a goodbye to the Grangers, and swept out of the room to go to the dungeons.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione began, “you know that you can rule out whoever took the ingredients two years ago, so it may be someone only around this year.”

“Don’t worry,” the headmaster said kindly, glad that this polite and intelligent young woman still had her parents, “Severus knows that, too.”

“H-he does?” Harry asked, wide-eyed. “But why…”

“Hasn’t he docked points?” Dumbledore finished. “Severus is fair enough not to accuse someone without evidence when it comes to _serious_ crimes; crimes that can lead to expulsion.” Hermione nodded, but Harry snorted disbelievingly.

“He implied that he knew, that first night I was back,” she said.

“What’s he talking about?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Nothing that matters now, clearly,” Hermione said, hoping that her parents wouldn’t pursue the matter.

“As it is,” Dumbledore said, “I’d like the two of you to stay at Hogwarts until this mystery is solved. We have guest accommodation, and you can return to your home during the day. I’ll send a house elf with you, invisible, of course, who can protect you from harm.”

“Can it be Dobby?” Hermione asked brightly.

“I’m sure he’d be delighted to help,” Dumbledore replied.

“Is anyone going to tell us what’s going on?” Mrs. Granger said to the room at large, her temper starting to rise. “In case you’d forgotten, we’re what you call _Muggles_. We don’t know what all this means.”

“We’ll all go to dinner right now,” the headmaster said firmly. “And then after that, we’ll take you to the guest quarters. Your daughter can stay with you temporarily. Miss Weasley, would you kindly fetch Miss Granger’s things after dinner? Minerva will show you the way to the guest quarters from Gryffindor tower.”

“Yes, sir,” Ginny said.

“And now to dinner!” Dumbledore said, and he led the way to the Great Hall.

The Grangers were as intrigued with Hogwarts as the rest of the students were with them. It was so unusual for Muggles to come to the school, as they couldn’t see it on a map, and it only looked like ruins to them whenever they saw it. But if the headmaster was all right with it, then it must have been… well, all right.

“They’re staring at us,” Mrs. Granger whispered to her daughter, disconcerted by all the looks. Mr. Granger was decidedly less disconcerted, as he was enjoying the food too much to notice.

“Well, you _are_ a phenomenon, being a Muggle at a magical school,” Hermione said, and Mrs. Granger eventually gave in and tucked into the delicious food prepared by the house elves.

The rooms in the guest quarters were more than satisfactory, and Hermione had an enjoyable evening, talking with her parents, whose things were also brought to them, so they could show Hermione the photographs from their holiday in Australia. It would take awhile, but with the help of _Hogwarts: a History_ , she was able to explain enough about Hogwarts to make things less confusing for her parents, and they all fell asleep happy that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-two-three… ahn.
> 
> Now, to those who have a problem with my use of the word ‘phenomenon’, here’s my explanation. While it’s true that it should be ‘phenomena’, as Hermione is talking about both of her parents, she is, in this case, talking about them as a couple, ergo the singular, instead of plural.


	41. Parents Who Just Have to Deal

The Grangers thought that Hogsmeade was simply wonderful, and happily drank butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks with their daughter and her friends. Mrs. Granger had learnt French at school, so she got on well with the crowd from Beauxbatons, and she had many happy conversations with Madame Maxine. Madame Pomfrey chatted eagerly with the dentists over their remedies for various teeth ailments.

Seeing the people she loved from both of her worlds made Hermione deliriously happy; though with the advent of the final contest dawning, and so many questions unanswered, she knew that the happiness wouldn’t last. And she was right.

“You’ve faced off a dragon, _and_ dangerous underwater creatures in a contest which _you_ put your name down for,” Mr. Granger said, quietly furious.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d actually get in,” Hermione said softly. “And it was also a good way of finding out that I was, in fact, the age of my body, thus confirming that I really _did_ travel time. Which means the loss of my memories is serious, because I must have been sent back for a reason.”

“I can’t get my head around the fact that you’re four years older than you were when we saw you less than half a year ago,” Mrs. Granger said, burying her face in her hands. “It’s… it’s so unbelievable.”

“You’re saying that to a Muggleborn witch?” Hermione asked, a smile quirking the corner of her lips.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Mr. Granger asked, and Hermione nodded.

“We’re about to head down to find out what the final part of the competition will be,” she said. “Plus, if I win this, it’s one thousand galleons, which will go towards my further education… _wherever_ I go.”

“All right,” Mrs. Granger said, and they watched as Hermione joined the other champions on their way down to what looked like a giant garden being planted.

“It’s a maze,” she whispered, studying the lines. And it was _huge_.

“What’s it all about?” Harry asked Dumbledore, who was there to explain.

“In the maze—it will be fully grown by the day of the competition—you will each enter in the order of whoever is coming first. Once inside, you must be prepared to face off many dangerous magical creatures, plants, and other threats. Prepare to be tested physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually.”

Emotionally? Hermione thought. Maybe there’ll be a Boggart, then… And intellectually… perhaps a dragon or a sphinx…

“Whoever reaches the trophy first wins the competition, and the thousand-galleon prize,” Dumbledore concluded briefly. “Any questions?”

“What precautions are being taken to ensure our safety?” Hermione asked.

“That will be explained on the day,” Dumbledore said. “But rest assured, Miss Granger; there _will_ be security measures in place.”

Not wholly satisfied, Hermione returned to her parents, Harry tagging along behind her, deep in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author note as explanation:
> 
> I know that that’s not the original conversation, but without access to my books at home, and writing all this on a laptop without internet connection at the moment, makes things rather difficult. I do confess, I cannot recall when certain things happened, and when others are explained. I’m just eager to get ahead with this story, as something very exciting will happen before the last contest. And you’ll all see what happens, of course…


	42. Using the Professor's Books

Hermione couldn’t believe it. The night before the final contest, and she had absolutely exhausted every book she had come across in the library, had been unsuccessful in the book shop in Hogsmeade, and was seriously considering owling Sirius about looking at the Black family library. As an old pureblood family, surely it would be extensive? She desperately needed to find out more about her time-travelling incident, and in the run-up to the final part of the tournament, she had been so busy researching methods of defending herself against all possible dangers in the maze that she had forgotten all about the ‘other’ matter.

“Why don’t you ask Professor Snape?” Madame Pince suggested as Hermione voiced her worries as she returned yet another armful of books to the trolley.

“What do you mean? Do you think he could help?” Hermione asked.

“He has a remarkable collection of books, from what I’ve heard,” Madame Pince said, her eyes shining. “No one’s ever seen it apart from him; I don’t think Albus has ever seen it before, in fact. That’s why some of us think that it’s a myth.”

“A possibly mythical library, and I haven’t heard about it?” Hermione said. “That’s incredible. I’ll go and ask him now!”

“Good luck,” Madame Pince said, amused at the young woman’s enthusiasm. She was so like her that it was amazing, and sometimes disconcerting. But she wiped the rare smile off her face quick smart as a student approached the desk. Like Severus Snape, she too had a persona to maintain.

Hermione hurried down to the dungeons, excited at the prospect of an unexplored library right here in Hogwarts. Of course, she could have just used the Room of Requirement, and asked for it to show her books with the solutions to her time-travelling problems.

Well, some problems couldn’t be solved by reading books.

She knocked perhaps a _bit_ louder than necessary on the office door of her Potions professor, but that was because she basically ran into it with all the momentum she had built up going down the stairs.

“Enter!” a sharp voice said, and Hermione obeyed.

“Uh… Professor?” she said, looking around the room. He was sitting in an armchair by a lit fire, legs stretched out in front of him.

“What is so important that you chose to disturb me at this time of night… so close to curfew, Miss Granger?” He said it in mock surprise, and Hermione resisted the urge to glare at him, or poke her tongue out at him. Anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

“I was wondering, _Professor_ , if you possibly had any books for me to consult,” she said icily. This amused Severus no end.

“Why, Granger, I have _many_ books that you could consult,” he said pleasantly, “but you’ll have to be more specific if you wish to get anywhere.”

“Anything to help me work out what happened to send me back four years, and how I could possibly get back,” she said, sitting down in the armchair opposite him. He raised his eyebrow, as she hadn’t been invited to sit. Realising this she jumped up, but he waved her back down wearily.

“Sit down, Granger; you’re giving me a headache moving so quickly,” he said, well aware of the fact that he sounded so much older when saying that. “Yes, you may use my books. I have quite a number of them. However, anything you see in there _stays_ in there, unless it’s something to do with your personal research; in which case, you still keep it to yourself. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said, feeling suddenly breathless as he led her to a dark corner of his room. He murmured something she didn’t hear, and then she heard stones moving with very little sound. Light emerged slowly as a large room revealed itself.


	43. A Magical Room

She felt like she was in the Disney movie _Beauty and the Beast_. Hermione had had no idea that there were so many books on magic that the Hogwarts library didn’t have, because she saw a lot of titles straight away that were unfamiliar to her. The room really was immense, and she stood there for several minutes, drinking it all in, the low candlelight making it seem positively ethereal.

As she stood there, Severus watched her. Her mouth was slightly open as her head moved slowly, taking in her surroundings. He had always been sure that she was the one other person in this world who could truly appreciate his library; not even Madame Pince could possibly understand _his_ library. But Hermione could. And as she stood there, looking in awe, she looked so beautiful that he could barely breathe. It was just like the night she had returned to Hogwarts from the future.

Feeling an intense gaze on her, she finally turned around, and made eye contact with Severus. He was standing stock still, looking at her unwaveringly. She felt slightly weak—was it the warmth from the candles?—and couldn’t move when he walked towards her.

It wasn’t until he was standing right in front of her that she let out the breath she had been holding. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she blushed.

“What is it, Granger? Scared to be alone in a room with me?” he whispered.

“N-no, sir,” she murmured back, blushing even deeper when he smirked at the obvious lie.

“Really? What a Gryffindor,” he said, beginning to circle her. “So brave, so noble,” he pushed her up against the wall of his library, and she looked him in the eyes, “so unlike a Slytherin.”

“You’re no coward, sir,” she said, as he leaned closer, her arms pinned over her head by his hands.

“But I’m certainly nowhere near noble, _Hermione_ ,” he said, and he finally pressed his lips against hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author is out. Enjoy the climax, with the cliché kiss-against-the-wall.
> 
> New author note: ZOMGPONIES the fact that Emma Watson is going to be playing Belle in the 'Beauty and the Beast' remake has just made this chapter 100 times funnier.


	44. Broken Kisses and the Beginning of the End

Severus kept her pressed up against the wall for quite some time. When he finally drew back, it was only a few inches, and he rested his forehead on hers, as they both got their breath back. He let her arms drop to her sides, ashamed of his behaviour, as he was supposed to be the responsible adult, and her teacher.

But had she kissed him back, or was it just his imagination?

It wasn’t his imagination.

He hadn’t even had a chance to open his eyes before Hermione grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him passionately as she stayed braced against the wall. Severus held her around the waist, his unwillingness to let her go increasing with each passing moment that she was in his arms. He pulled her away from the wall several steps as they continued to kiss.

It was when he moaned that she suddenly paused. She dropped her hands from his shirt collar, and backed up a few steps, as what she had done suddenly hit her.

“Oh my…” she murmured, and, without ever looking at him, she raced from the room, leaving him standing there, breathless, for several moments. Then it hit him.

“Hermione!” Severus shouted, running after her, but it was an empty room that he found. He left his office quickly, and looked right and left. Not even fading footsteps told him in which direction she had gone, and for that time of night it was really quiet. If only he hadn’t hesitated when she ran from him, he might have found her, might have been able to explain his actions… assuming he could work them out, that is. And with that damned competition tomorrow…

Hermione woke up the next day, and was suddenly gladdened by the possibility of her death that day: ‘death by dangerous competition’ sounded like something from the Roman days. It sure as hell would solve her time-travelling issues; dead, she wouldn’t have to worry about finding a way back home. She wouldn’t have to return to that library, to that teacher’s arms…

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, she said to herself as she, Harry, Fleur, and Krum approached the start of the maze, having flashbacks to her dreams… nightmares… whatever they were that she had had last night.

“Mr. Potter shall enter the maze first,” Dumbledore said. Hermione tried to pay attention, which was difficult with Severus standing nearby. “The teachers who are here will be walking around the outside of the maze, ready for your signal. If you’re injured, send up red sparks into the air. Show me that you can do those, please.” The four champions obliged. “Splendid. If you find another champion injured, send up green sparks.” Again, the four champions demonstrated that they could do this, and Dumbledore nodded his approval.

“Good luck, Hermione,” Harry whispered to her, and they hugged tightly, both afraid that they might not see each other again.

“Stay safe, Harry,” Hermione replied just as quietly. “And remember: when in doubt, use a Shielding Charm. And don’t hold back when you defend yourself, because…”

“Your opponent sure as hell won’t,” Harry finished, still holding her. “I know. I told you that, remember?”

Hermione nodded, remembering the extra lessons Harry had given her in defence, and drew back. She smiled a watery smile at him, and they took their places, Harry in front, Hermione waiting behind. She steadfastly kept herself from looking at Severus, frightened to make eye contact with him again.

Sending a shower of bright sparks into the air, Dumbledore sent the first of the champions into a maze full of dangers, from which they may never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, of course, since events have changed, whose fates may differ with Hermione’s inadvertent interference with the space-time continuum? Only one way to find out:
> 
> READ ON!!! Mwa-ha-ha-ha!


	45. That's Rosemary for Remembrance

While Harry ran through one section of the maze, using a Location Spell to guide his path, Hermione was doing the same thing on the opposite side. She had encountered many different dangers, which she fortunately overcame, including Devil’s Snare, a Blast-Ended Screwt, and Fluffy, the three-headed dog from her first year. He looked so cute lying on the ground after she sang to him that she couldn’t help but stroke him on one of his noses, before scurrying away, leaving a magical recording of her singing playing near him until she could escape safely.

Severus stalked along outside the part of the maze where Hermione had left Fluffy sleeping peacefully. He had sensed her magic there, and was using his thoughts of her to distract him from the increasing itchy-pain in his arm.

All of a sudden, there were green sparks within the maze, and he went to the rescue of whoever was in trouble.

Hermione turned a corner, and could barely breathe when she saw Harry lying on the ground, unmoving.

“ _No_ ,” she whispered, tears threatening the sides of her eyes. She ran forward, unconsciously sending up green sparks as she got to his side. However, after only a few steps, Harry wasn’t there anymore. Instead, it was Crookshanks. Then, her mother, followed by her father.

Severus arrived where the sparks had come from, just as the Boggart changed from Mr. Granger to himself. Hermione was standing there, shaking like a leaf. He thought she was crying, and moved forward, when he heard the laughter.

“Ha!” she said triumphantly, and the Boggart disappeared with a crack. She took a deep breath, and then heard a footstep. She whipped around, wand at the ready, and saw Severus standing there, looking somewhat amazed.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, walking forward with her head down, ashamed at her overreaction, “but it was a false alarm.”

“My death frightens you?” he asked quietly, and she raised her eyes to his to answer.

But then it hit her.

Severus watched her face change from something unreadable, to one of fear, confusion, panic, and back to downright horror.

“Harry,” she said hoarsely, falling to her knees. Severus knelt down in front of her, and grabbed her shoulders, getting a distinct sense of déjà vu. “He’s… he’ll return. Harry gets to the trophy, it’s a portkey, Cedric dies, the Dark Lord rises again, Death Eaters, Moody, Crouch… Professor Moody is Bartholomew Crouch Junior!” she finished with a shriek.

“You’ve remembered,” Severus said, and he summoned his Patronus, which he sent to Dumbledore. “Now what about Potter? And the rest? The Dark Lord returns?”

“Cedric,” Hermione said. “Cedric is the Hogwarts champion. The trophy… it’s a portkey. Cedric is killed by Peter Pettigrew, who then brings back You-Know-Who, using Harry. Then… Priori Incantatem. And… Polyjuice Potion! In Moody’s flask, there’s Polyjuice Potion. Mad-Eye Moody is in the trunk. You’re… you’re a Death Eater,” she said, and she pulled up his sleeve. The tattoo was getting more defined.

“What is it, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, crashing through the side of the hedge, followed by Professor McGonagall.

“Hermione’s memory has returned,” Severus said as Hermione let the sleeve fall back into place.

“Some of it,” she specified. “It’s all so… _blurry_. And I wasn’t even there. This is only part of it.”

“Alastor Moody is an impostor,” Severus told the headmaster. “Crouch’s son has been using Polyjuice Potion. But he…” He turned to Hermione. “He’s dead. Barty Crouch is dead. He has been for years.”

“I’m only telling you what I know,” Hermione said, hugging her knees as she sat on the ground, shivering slightly. She had been running for so long that the sweat was cooling on her as she sat there. Severus took off his cape and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Also, the Triwizard Trophy is a portkey,” Severus said. “The Dark Lord will come back to life… just as you thought he would someday,” he added, looking directly at Dumbledore.

“You _knew_ this would happen?” Minerva asked, furious.

“I always suspected that he hadn’t gone properly,” he said calmly. “Where does the portkey go, Miss Granger?”

“A… a graveyard,” she said. “Where Lord V-voldemort’s father is buried. He—Peter Pettigrew—uses Harry’s blood, his flesh, and…”

“Pettigrew is in jail,” Severus reminded her. Hermione blinked, and then smiled.

“Well, then maybe it’s all right,” she said, relieved. “Oh, but shouldn’t someone check to make sure that the trophy really _isn’t_ a portkey?”

“And check on Alastor,” Albus said, nodding. “I’ll find him right away. Miss Granger, you find Harry, and tell him what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and she ran off, the cloak falling from her shoulders as she ran.

“Is that quite safe?” Severus asked, retrieving his coat, and putting it back on, savouring the lingering scent of the girl he had kissed the night before.

“We need your help in finding the other two champions, and if it really _is_ Bartholomew Crouch Junior, and not Alastor Moody, then we’re one teacher down. Harry always listens to Miss Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But will he listen this time? After all, for her memories to suddenly come back like that… and since things have changed, what will happen next?


	46. Knocking Back the Hands of Fate

It was a race against time. Hermione used the same spell on Harry that she had been using to locate the trophy. She never even thought about using her Patronus to warn him, so jumbled were her thoughts, her memories.

Rounding another corner, she saw something ahead of her, something glinting oddly. What was it?

The trophy.

“Success!” Hermione exclaimed, running forward so that she could neutralise the possible portkey.

With a jolt of horror, she saw Harry running towards it as well, from a different direction; only he was closer, and had longer legs.

“No! Harry! Don’t touch it!” she shrieked, but the wind was getting so fierce that he couldn’t hear her words. He was only feet away from it, when she did the only thing she could do at that moment.

“Finite Incantatem!” she yelled, brandishing her wand at the trophy. The wind shifted at the last moment, and her aim went wild, hitting the hedge behind Harry instead. But at least she got his attention.

“Hermione?” he mouthed, seeing her rapid approach, pausing mid-stride.

“It might be a portkey!” she screamed, still sprinting to him. He looked confused, but reached out to touch the trophy. Hermione’s heart leapt into her mouth, and she launched herself forward. She knocked his hand out of the way, sending him reeling back; but in pushing him away from the danger, her own hand brushing against the trophy, and she was pulled out of the maze with a horrible jerk.

Harry stood there, gaping at where his friend had just been standing. “Hermione?” He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, didn’t notice anything until a wand was pressed against his back, and an arm snaked around the front of his chest.

“Good thing I always bring spares, isn’t it?” came the voice of Barty Crouch, the younger, as he and Harry spun off to the same place Hermione had just been taken to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp inaudibly*


	47. The Graveyard Story

It took some time for Hermione to get her bearings. She had never actually been here, but she could feel evil. It comforted her only a little that Peter Pettigrew was still in Azkaban, because since she was here, clearly there were still bad plans at play.

“So what now?” she asked the silent graveyard.

Not so silent.

“We wait,” a high-pitched voice hissed.

“Oh no…” Hermione moaned, knowing what that voice meant.

“Oh yes,” Lord Voldemort answered—well, the spirit of Lord Voldemort.

“Why? Why come back?” she asked.

“Because there’s more to be done,” he replied simply. His voice was tired, but Hermione felt absolutely no sympathy, as this was the man who wanted to kill Harry.

“Please, don’t do this,” she begged, wondering why on earth she was trying to reason with Voldemort. She had been stuttering when trying to say his name before, and now she was conversing with him, the man who was just a shiver waiting to go up someone’s spine.

“Not your choice to make, little girl,” Voldemort replied, and then Barty Crouch Jr was there, holding Harry at wand-point. Within moments, Harry was bound to a headstone, and Hermione disarmed Crouch before things could go any further.

“Oh, don’t think I had forgotten you, Miss Granger,” he said, glinting at her evilly, and Voldemort chuckled.

“Get her, Crouch, would you?” he asked lazily.

“No!” Harry yelled, and Hermione ducked behind a headstone as Crouch sent a wandless curse her way. He avoided her return hex, and grabbed his wand from the ground.

“Give it up, Granger!” he called, and he cackled. The sound chilled Hermione’s bones.

“Never!” she said, stepping out from behind the headstone to duel with the Death Eater.

All Harry could do was struggle against the bonds, and try to use wandless magic to untie them. In fact, if he could only get at his wand… of course! With a wandless Accio, Harry retrieved his wand, and used a Severing Spell on the ropes. Voldemort swore angrily from the pile of robes he was in near the bubbling cauldron.

“He’s trying to get away!” he screamed to Crouch, who turned without a moment’s hesitation and Stunned Harry.

“Crucio!” Hermione said, and Crouch was on the ground, screaming his throat out with the pain she was inflicting on him. She flicked a Reviving Charm at Harry, before returning to torturing the Death Eater, grim satisfaction in her eyes as she listened to the screams.

“Hermione,” Harry croaked, running up to her. Crouch tried to curse Harry from the ground, but he couldn’t get the words out with the agony. “Stop. He’s not worth it.”

“But everyone else is,” Hermione said. “Thank you for teaching us this one, Professor,” she added to Crouch, who glared at her as best he could. Harry knocked her wand out of her hand, and she frowned at him. But then, realising what she had done, she softened the look, until she broke down, and grabbed him around the shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh, Merlin, Harry,” she sobbed. “I was so worried. Some of my memories returned, and… I should never have entered this contest. I should have known better, I _should_ have…”

“It’s not your fault, Hermione,” Harry said. “Ron encouraged you to put your name in, and you didn’t have enough confidence in your abilities to think that maybe, just maybe, you had a chance to win. Hey! You know what?”

“What?” Hermione said, wiping away some of her tears.

“You touched the trophy first, so you _did_ win,” Harry said, and Hermione laughed. Harry joined her in laughing, until pain overcame his expression.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, and a low chuckle from behind her friend told her what had happened. Crouch stood there, a bloodied knife in his hand, and Harry clutched at his back, dropping his wand.

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken,” Crouch sang, and he danced over to the cauldron, as Harry’s knees buckled under him, taking the two friends to the ground.

Hermione gathered up Harry’s wand and her own, checked to make sure that they were safe, and placed them in her robes. Using her own wandless Accio, she summoned the trophy to her, and holding onto her friend, they returned to Hogwarts, out the front of the maze.

“I… I’m sorry I failed you, Harry,” Hermione said, her voice choked with renewed sobs, and she just tightened her hold on him as they huddled together on the ground, Harry shuddering with pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I apologise for Hermione’s use of the Cruciatus Curse, but she really was exceedingly annoyed. And before anyone asks, she hasn’t remembered the roasting that the press gives Harry and Dumbledore, nor has she remembered Umbridge, at least for the time being. And it’s better than the Killing Curse, as we don’t want her to go down that road yet.
> 
> And thank you to Paul Keating, our former Prime Minister, the original man to talk about someone being a shiver waiting to go up someone’s spine. Very funny man, what with all his hilarious, Snape-like insults. Only Keating is less subtle. In fact, there’s Keating! the Musical out on DVD.


	48. Whereabouts

Severus’ arm was killing him. The Minister for Magic was being a complete dunderhead, Hermione was still in tears, Potter was in shock, and Rita Skeeter had the hide to be buzzing about, trying to get interviews with all and sundry. Weasley and his sister were trying to comfort their friends, and Dumbledore was, very patiently, trying to get the full story out of them.

“Graveyard,” Hermione said over and over. The headmaster eventually used Legillimancy on her, and recognised the scene immediately. He instructed Severus to stay behind while he gathered some Aurors together. But the return of Lord Voldemort meant only one thing to Severus:

Spying. He would now have to return to spying.

“Professor?” a weak voice said. He looked down, and saw Hermione watching him intently, the fingers on his left arm twitching with the pain from the Dark Mark. “How are you feeling?”

“Miss Granger, you’re the one who almost got herself killed with her foolish actions, not me,” he said acerbically, “and you’re asking if I’m all right. Why not ask your parents how _they_ feel? They must be nearly sick with worry.”

“Leave her alone!” Ron said, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Great. _Now_ you stick up for me,” she muttered, and Ron looked at her, confused. “Oh, come on, Ron. You’ve been ignoring me for the longest time, and now you _finally_ decide that you’re on my side, only _after_ I’ve nearly got myself killed! And what about Harry?”

“Well, he’s all right,” Ron said, waving his hand in Harry’s general direction, where he sat after having been healed by Madame Pomfrey. Now he just had a token bandage around his middle, waiting for Sirius to arrive.

“He’s in _shock_ ,” Hermione said angrily, standing up, tossing the blanket off her shoulders. “It’s a horrible thing, as I should know. Being in shock. And now that… _he’s_ back, do you realise what that means?”

“Yeah, the war’ll start again,” Ron said glumly.

“Placing _me_ in danger,” Hermione added, glaring at him.

“You’ll be safe at Hogwarts with us,” Ron said confidently, as Harry stood gingerly, and placed a hand on Hermione’s arm.

“Ron, don’t you realise?” he asked. “This is Hermione’s last year here. She’s a Muggleborn, and she won’t be safe. She won’t have us to protect her. She’ll be out there, in a world where she’ll be a moving target.”

“Not to mention the fact that I’m your friend, Harry, making it twice as dangerous for me,” Hermione admitted. When Harry started to apologise, she interrupted him. “No; it’s an honour and a privilege to be your friend.” Severus snorted, but she ignored him, though Harry frowned. “I won’t let them get me. Because by being your friend, and being outside of the school, I’m also a danger to you. They could use me to find out information about you.”

“So what’ll you do?” Ginny asked, wrapping her arms around her friend.

“I’ll…” Hermione began, and then she paused. Dumbledore took that moment to interrupt.

“I’m afraid we can’t get anyone there in time, and we don’t know how many people may have already arrived at the meeting place,” he said. “Severus? Do you have any idea?”

“As you instructed me to stay behind, I’m not sure,” he said. “Many of the Dark Lord’s followers are, thankfully, in Azkaban. Unfortunately, Crouch is still on the loose, and he was one of the most devoted Death Eaters. I have no doubt that there will be many who will return, and we definitely cannot risk sending anyone there until we know more. I trust you’ll…”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, and he nodded. The others looked confused. “We’ll speak later, Severus.”

“Of course, Headmaster.”

“The rest of you, to bed,” he said, and the remaining students left the grounds to return to the castle.

What will I do? Hermione thought, walking between Ginny and Harry, her arms linked through theirs. How can I possibly keep safe, and not endanger my friends and family? Oh, Merlin. My parents…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty, ain’t it? And what’s Hermione going to do with the prize money? You’ll find out in the next chapter…


	49. Commission

It was indeed a conundrum. In only a few weeks’ time, Hermione would no longer be a student at the safest place in the world, but a Muggleborn witch, lost in what was now the most dangerous city in the world. Even the Ministry wouldn’t be able to protect her from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not with Death Eaters actually among the workers at the Ministry. No, no matter her N.E.W.T scores, she wasn’t going to the Ministry.

She was walking along, minding her own business, when she was suddenly flanked by the Weasley twins.

“Hey, Hermione!”

“Hello, `Mione.”

“George; Fred,” Hermione said, allowing them to take her arms. “How are you both?”

“Fine,” they chorused.

“You need protection…” Fred told her.

“And we’re here to provide it,” George continued. “In…”

“And out…”

“Of school,” they finished. Hermione grinned, immediately cheered up.

“Thanks, boys,” she said, squeezing their arms slightly. “But you’ve still got to finish your time at Hogwarts; only one year to go, after all. N.E.W.Ts, remember?”

“Hermione, you’re the only girl we know who gets excited about N.E.W.Ts,” George said seriously. “But we don’t mind being your constant protection.”

“It would be an _honour_ ,” Fred added, bowing deeply.

“Well…” Hermione paused, and they all stopped walking. “You remember all those… gadgets that you’ve made?”

“Gadgets?” Fred asked in horror.

“Surely you don’t mean our extensive collection of inventions,” George added.

“Uh… yes,” Hermione said, nodding. “Do you have anything that could… protect me?”

“From a certain Baddie and his Minions?” Fred said, clarifying what she meant.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well,” George said, “we’ve been improving some of our inventions.”

“Only minor improvements at this stage,” Fred said.

“But if we concentrated our efforts…”

“They could be perfected in no time…”

“And we’ll do it for you for free, and all.”

“What do you think?” they asked, grinning.

“Sounds great,” Hermione said. “But how much time will this really take?”

“Care to look over our stock?” George asked.

“We’ve got spying equipment at the moment,” Fred added. “It’ll come in handy when…”

“Wait!” Hermione exclaimed. “How about…” She thought for a moment, while the twins looked at her expectantly. “How would you feel about working on a whole lot _more_ spy equipment, and other protective gad-inventions? Not just for me, but to market to other Muggleborns, and people in danger from Death Eaters.”

The boys looked at each other.

“It’s possible…” Fred said.

“With a bit of time…”

“And cash…”

“There are so many possibilities…”

“And you’re both really clever at that sort of thing,” Hermione added. “Genius. Even I have to admit it, and you know how I feel about practical jokes.”

“Yes, but these wouldn’t be practical jokes,” George said, growing excited.

“We’ve got many of those made already, and just need to sell them,” Fred continued, his eyes shining.

“We could use the proceeds to build up an enterprise.”

“Never mind waiting for that to happen,” Hermione said quickly, making her decision. “Boys? I’m going to commission you to make various devices that create protection for anyone who needs it against the Dark Arts. For your services, I’ll pay you… I’ll pay you my prize money from the Triwizard Tournament.”

“What?” the twins exploded, causing some nearby second-years to jump, before scurrying off.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t feel right about the money. If I’d recovered my memories sooner, or even just my wits, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If I hadn’t been so distracted, then…”

“Hermione, it’s not your fault,” Fred said, holding her shoulders and forcing her to look up at him.

“If it’s your fault, then it’s Harry’s, too,” George said. “And we all know you’re the last person to ever blame him for something that isn’t his fault.”

“He’s good enough at that himself,” Fred added.

“Still,” Hermione said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself, but an excess of money that I wouldn’t have got if I hadn’t returned to school this year won’t help me in any way. Please. You have to take it. Use it for good. I trust you.”

“You trust us?” Fred asked, raising his eyebrows and glancing at his brother. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“More fool you,” George said to Hermione, shrugging.

“But we’ll take your offer,” they said, grinning once again, and Hermione felt better than she had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. The money has still ended up going to the twins. But look. Cedric’s still alive, Pettigrew’s in jail, Hermione has kissed Severus Snape… things are different enough in other places. You need some stability, surely?


	50. Hermione Comes to a Decision

“Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore said. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I think you know, sir,” Hermione said. “Or can at least guess.”

“You are worried about leaving Hogwarts, and being prey to the Death Eaters and even Lord Voldemort himself?” Dumbledore asked.

“Actually, not exactly,” Hermione said, her lips twitching slightly. “And here I was thinking that you knew everything that went on inside the walls of the school.”

“Ah, well, how can I know everything if I’m not told anything?” he pointed out, though the lessening of the twinkle in his eye suggested that he was affronted at Hermione’s statement.

“Well, since it involves you quite a lot, I thought that you should be the first to know,” she said.

“Ah, well then, continue.”

“With every new school year, you need a new member of faculty for the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, correct?”

“Now, Miss Granger,” he said, frowning, “you’re too young to be a teacher, as you well know.”

“But I was thinking that, if nobody else applied, I could at least put myself forward,” she said desperately. “Please, Professor. I’ll feel safer here than anywhere else, really. If you could just give me the chance, at least let me try to teach the students for the remaining classes of the year.”

“Miss Granger,” he said, and then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Why don’t you… _if_ we get a teacher, how about you become an apprentice, instead?”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” she exclaimed, standing up in her excitement. “How do I go about it?”

“You’ll need the teacher to approve you first, of course,” he said, ticking it off on his fingers. “As we don’t have a teacher yet, that will prove to be difficult.”

“Well… give Professor Snape the job, then!” she said. “At least I know him. And he knows that I’m a good student, and a hard worker.” Even if I really shouldn’t spend any more alone time with him than necessary, she thought. Dumbledore looked at her strangely.

“Leave staffing to me, Miss Granger,” he said sternly. “I’ll do my best for you, but I can make no promise.”

“Is there… is there any harm in asking other teachers if I can apprentice with them?” she asked, and she bit her lower lip.

“Of course not,” the headmaster said, kind once again. “I’m sure that Professor McGonagall will be happy to teach you for as long as possible. You’re one of her favourites, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Hermione said, blushing. “Thank you once again, sir. Shall I see myself out?” Dumbledore nodded, and she left the office, a slight skip in her step.


	51. Holidays Once Again

The return of Lord Voldemort was being denied by the press. And it was difficult, after all; even though Hermione and Harry had both been there, and seen Barty Crouch Jr dancing around a cauldron, Hermione had been the only one to talk to Voldemort. Even then, she never actually saw him—how could she?—so there was much disbelief. The Minister for Magic had gone into denial, and the _Prophet_ , for a wonder, was backing him up.

But Hermione was in demand for the holidays. Dumbledore had given her permission to stay at Hogwarts until a decision about the DADA teaching job was made; and she had back-up apprenticeships with Professors McGonagall, Sinistra, and Flitwick. She hadn’t dared ask Professor Snape.

She also had invitations to stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Sirius, and to stay at the Burrow with the Weasleys. She had been told about the Order of the Phoenix by Dumbledore, who told her not to tell her friends about it, as they would find out soon enough. So she had emergency accommodation with Order members, as did her parents. Dumbledore would be around to the Granger’s house and dental practice sometime to place wards on the buildings, so that this time they really _would_ be safe.

Despite the fact that Hermione was an only child, the fact that her parents were dentists meant that they were reasonably well off, and the house they lived in was far too big for all of them, even more so when Hermione was at school. There was a big pool in the backyard, and so much space indoors, that Hermione had a brilliant idea: a pool party.

She sent the invitations from Hogwarts, with permission of course. It would be a great way for her parents to get to know her friends from the wizarding world a bit better, and also for them to get to know the people who would protect them if their lives were endangered.

Minerva received the replies on Hermione’s behalf, and brought them over to the Granger’s house that evening, after dinner at Hogwarts had finished. She flooed into the living room to a picturesque scene: Mrs. Granger at the piano, Mr. Granger to her left, and Hermione to her right, turning pages. They were singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, and looked so… peaceful. She felt tears creeping out, and quickly brushed them away.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said cheerfully, after they had finished singing, and she noticed her professor standing there. “I’m glad to see you. Are those the replies?”

“Yes, dear, and the singing was beautiful,” she added to the Grangers, as Hermione sat down at the coffee table, sorting through the replies. She pulled the piece of paper she had written the names on, of all the people she was inviting to the pool party.

Swimming was optional, ergo swimming gear was optional. There would be a barbecue; Australian-style, using what her parents had learnt on their holiday. No magic allowed, except in defence.

“Are you coming to the party?” Mrs. Granger asked Minerva.

“Oh, yes, I was very flattered to get an invitation,” the teacher replied. “I haven’t been to a pool party in… well, years! Of course, I wouldn’t have come if swimming was compulsory. And if Albus knows what’s good for him, he won’t be swimming, either.”

“Professor Dumbledore is coming?” Hermione asked, having not got to his reply yet.

“Yes, he is,” Minerva said, and she and the Grangers were soon discussing party details as Hermione sat, mulling over the reply she had got from her former Potions teacher. He had accepted. Why? What would her friends think? And what would he be wearing… or _not_ wearing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, if she hadn’t wanted him to come, she shouldn’t have asked him. It’s not like she was inviting all of the Hogwarts teachers. She may be Hermione, but she’s also sensible enough not to overcrowd the place. Why am I explaining all this? If I were you, dear readers, I would do just that: read on.


	52. Party!

The day of the pool party dawned chilly, but fine. As the minutes passed, the temperature warmed up, and it began to feel more like summer. Hermione and her parents strung up streamers, dragged out the barbecue, and checked to make sure that they had all the food that they would need, not to mention drinks. Everyone who had been invited was able to come, so it was going to be crowded.

“I can’t wait for the first arrival,” Hermione said to her parents, bouncing on her heels, a huge smile on her face.

“Calm down,” Mrs. Granger said, putting an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

“It’s just so _exciting_ ,” she replied, and leapt to her feet from the lounge chair as she heard voices in the backyard. She had put up some concealment charms to make one corner a safe point for Apparation. She ran out the back door, and was delighted to see the Hogwarts teachers that she had invited: the headmaster, Minerva, Severus, Hagrid, Professors Flitwick, Sinistra, and Sprout.

“`Ello, `Ermione!” Hagrid called, and he wrapped her in a gigantic hug, which made Hermione wince slightly in pain.

“Hi, Hagrid,” she said, smiling into his chest nonetheless, and pulling away eventually.

“Hermione, dear; it’s wonderful to see you again,” Professor Sinistra said, also hugging Hermione.

“It hasn’t been _that_ long since I graduated,” the girl said, grinning at all of her former teachers. “And I’ll see you all again after the holidays.”

“Have you decided which apprenticeship to take yet?” Dumbledore asked, twinkling as the Grangers greeted the teachers.

“Not yet,” Hermione said. “But I’ve still got time, haven’t I?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, and then several more pops sounded, and the noisy Weasleys were all in the Granger’s backyard. Within minutes, everyone else had arrived, and the party was in full swing.

“Thank Merlin for Silencing Charms!” Harry shouted to Hermione as they both prepared to jump into the pool for the fifteenth time. “The last thing we need is the Muggle police coming around, right?”

Hermione nodded, and leapt into the water, trying not to relive the second part of the Triwizard Tournament, even though it had alerted her to the fact that her parents were still alive. They had never found out who was playing mind games on her, though it was suspected that Crouch Jr was behind it, as he had evidently been stealing the Polyjuice Potion ingredients for his impersonation of Moody.

She emerged, and looked up at the sky, breathing in the fresh air, grateful to be alive. She was bobbing up and down, listening to the soft music playing from the living room, when she heard a voice.

“Fascinating party, Miss Granger.”

She almost choked on the chlorinated water, and turned around to look up at him. He was towering over her, and she felt decidedly small.

“Does that mean that you’re enjoying yourself, Professor?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, frowning.

“Why aren’t you swimming?” she said cheekily, putting their kiss out of her mind, determined not to feel uncomfortable at her own pool party.

“You didn’t invite me to this party just to see me swim, Granger,” he said, unmoving, arms still crossed.

“What if I did?” she asked slowly, swimming back away from him a couple of feet, looking him up and down.

“I wouldn’t have come if swimming was compulsory,” he said. “Does that answer your question?”

“Not really,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’ve seen my… tattoo,” he said, cocking his head to the right. “It’s not something I particularly want to advertise.”

“Oh,” she replied, feeling ashamed. “No, I suppose not. Sorry, Professor. I really didn’t think, did I?”

“It’s not for you to think about,” he said, and then he suddenly winced, and grabbed his left arm.

“What…”

“I must go,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Thank you for the party.”

“Did you get something to eat and drink?” Hermione asked, pulling herself out of the pool rapidly and following him into the house, where Severus immediately headed for Professor Dumbledore.

“Yes, I did,” he said. “Thank you for your concern. Albus?” he said, and Dumbledore looked up.

“Enjoying yourself, my boy?” he asked pleasantly, and then noticed Severus’ expression. “Ah.”

“Yes,” he said. “Ah.”

“Then go,” Dumbledore said. “But Severus: be careful.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” he said, nodding, and he left the house again to go to the Apparation point. Hermione continued to follow him there, worried.

“What’s happening?” she asked, though she could take a good guess.

“I’ve been summoned,” he said, reaching the shaded area where he could safely disappear.

“Then… good luck, Professor,” she said, but he left before she could even say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh… but we know he can’t die yet. Well, you don’t know that; or, at least, you didn’t. Now I’ve told you that he can’t die yet, you can rejoice. Hurrah!


	53. A Summons from the Ministry

There was a letter from the Ministry of Magic waiting for Hermione the morning after the party. Because it had gone so late, some people had stayed overnight, which was why it was just as well that the Granger house was so big. Now Hermione was worried that she might be in trouble for using underage magic on the property, despite the fact that she was now of age.

“I shouldn’t be worried about it,” Harry said, between spoonfuls of cereal. Sirius, Tonks, Remus, Professor Sprout, the Grangers, and Charlie Weasley were all sitting around, having breakfast. The Hogwarts teachers were all given permission to stay the night, but Professor Sprout was used to being up early. The only teachers to have left were Severus, for obvious reasons, and Hagrid, who was worried about leaving Fang at home alone overnight.

“Well, what else could it be?” Hermione asked, still looking at the letter, still frowning.

“Might be to do with your apprenticeship,” Sirius said, spreading butter onto yet another piece of toast.

“I suppose…”

“C’mon, Hermione,” Charlie said. “Just open it.”

Hermione complied, half-afraid that the parchment might erupt into flames if she didn’t open it carefully.

 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_It has come to the notice of the Ministry of Magic that you used the Cruciatus Curse in July. However, as you were still enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at that time, and competing in the Triwizard Tournament, there will be a hearing, at which time your fate will be decided, instead of immediate imprisonment in Azkaban. This has been at the insistence of your headmaster, who we spoke with late last night._

_Your hearing is on the 16 th of August, at 9a.m. There will be severe consequences if you do not attend at that time._

_Have a lovely holiday, and we shall see you on the 16 th._

_Sincerely,_

_Bathilda Bagshott._

 

“What’s… that curse again?” Mrs. Granger asked, and Hermione burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hermione. Well, instead of a trial for Harry, Hermione shall be on the stand, and for something far worse. I hope the letter sounded official enough. I did my best.


	54. Albus Dumbledore Apologises

“I’m so sorry, Miss Granger,” a voice said, and Hermione whipped around. Dumbledore was standing there, looking tired and ashamed. He spread his hands out to the side in a gesture of helplessness. “I tried to make them understand, but they’re still convinced that Tom hasn’t come back to life. Not that he was ever really dead, as it turns out.”

“When did all this happen?” she asked, her voice strained with tears. “It says last night. When last night?”

“Everyone had already gone to bed when I got an owl from the Ministry,” he said, sitting down at the breakfast table, and reaching for some toast and the marmalade. “They were ready to throw you straight into Azkaban, but circumstances were on your side. I’m not sure yet what punishment they’ll give you…”

“What makes you think that they’ll win?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed.

“What’s this curse?” Mr. Granger said, repeating his wife’s question.

“It’s… it’s a bad spell, that inflicts pain on… well, whoever you’re cursing,” Hermione muttered, guilty. “But he was a bad man, and I was very stressed. And he’d just Stunned Harry, after having kidnapped him, and bound him to a gravestone. Not to mention the fact that he was there to resurrect Lord V-voldemort, and that he’d been impersonating an old friend of Professor Dumbledore.”

“So she was _almost_ justified in using it,” Remus said, rubbing his temples.

“She was damn well justified, Moony!” Sirius exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table. “Damn it, she was defending my godson! She had every right…”

“If I’d used my head, and just tied him up, or knocked him out, then V-voldemort wouldn’t have come back to life,” Hermione said, her voice tired once again. “I’ll go. I’ll take whatever they throw at me. It’s no more than I deserve.”

“Now, that’s defeatist talk, and I don’t want to hear it,” Professor Sprout said, startling everyone. The rest of the teachers had joined them, but were hanging back, astonished at what was going on. “Now, Granger, you’ve always been sensible, level-headed. But you’ve gone through a hell of a lot the past year and a half, so I think the Ministry should take that into account. If you believe that you’re guilty, then they will as well. Be brave.”

“They can’t take you away from us,” Minerva said firmly, putting an arm around Hermione’s shoulders.

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Granger said tentatively. “Maybe you should just… you know… give up magic. Then you won’t have to face them.”

“I’ll still have to face them, Mother,” Hermione said. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll cast me out of the wizarding world anyway, and I won’t have to make the choice. I won’t even have to worry about my apprenticeship, either, will I?” She laughed a hollow laugh, and excused herself, saying that she wanted to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens yet again.


	55. Trial and Terror

Hermione, with her newfound cynicism, turned up at the Ministry of Magic at five o’clock on the 16th of August, despite the fact that her trial was supposed to be four hours later. So she wasn’t that surprised when she saw Albus Dumbledore standing in the hall, talking animatedly to some official, arguing about the time.

“Who changed it at the last minute?” he asked, his usually soft blue eyes glinting dangerously at the increasingly-nervous administrator.

“Really, Professor,” he squeaked, “I have no idea…”

“Good morning, headmaster,” Hermione said, and they both looked startled to see her.

“Hermione,” Dumbledore said, so relieved by her appearance there that he forgot all formality. “Thank Merlin you showed up early. Your trial is actually at seven o’clock.”

“So instead of arriving on time, and being two hours late, I’m actually two hours early,” she said slowly, and she glanced at the clerk, who swallowed loudly, and tugged at his collar.

“Glad you could make it on time, Miss Granger,” he said.

“You would have notified me in plenty of time, of course,” Hermione purred, and he nodded energetically, eager to get away. “Go on, then,” she said, a hard edge making its way into her voice, and he scurried off, not even seeking permission from Dumbledore, who sighed.

“It’s a terrible thing to have happened, and I’m so glad that you’re sensible enough to have arrived early,” he said, looking so much older than usual.

“Me too,” Hermione admitted, and she started to tremble slightly. She could still see her breath in the air, and drew her travelling cloak around her tighter, glad of the hood. She suspected that it may have added to the terror that the poor clerk must have felt, and wondered if he had to face this sort of thing very often.

“As it is, we must contact the people who are supposed to be here, too,” Dumbledore said, and they took one of the lifts to the owlery. Hermione was intrigued to find that the Ministry of Magic didn’t just use owls; it used pigeons as well, though only for less formal business, or for longer journeys, say to other magical ministries. They both sent messages to the people closest to the Ministry, and then used a private flooing room to contact the rest. There were teachers from Hogwarts, Sirius, Harry, the Weasleys, and some other people only Dumbledore knew, but were well-versed in legal matters, and willing to speak in the young witch’s defence.

The two hours sped by, and with only half an hour to spare, the last few people stumbled through the fireplaces in the hall of the Ministry, and the group went on its way to the courtroom.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked as they reached the door. She looked up at him, and he met her eyes.

“What is it, Miss Granger?”

“I’m… I’m scared.”


	56. Punishment Dealt

The court proceedings were long, but hardly boring, particularly when Harry, Sirius, and the Weasleys all took to the stand to speak in Hermione’s favour. She felt like burying her head in her hands at all the exaggerated—to her—compliments that they gave, their statements getting increasingly impassioned as time went on. Ron and Harry in particularly had to be restrained, and Sirius had to be reminded of the delicate ground he was treading for him to calm down.

The Weasley twins were silently plotting revenge on any and everyone who spoke against their Muggleborn friend. But Mrs. Weasley was the one who scared people the most. It took a full two and a half minutes for the prosecution—as Hermione thought of them—to recover before they could continue, still slightly shaken.

Dolores Umbridge, secretary for the Minister, seemed to be the only person in the room not affected in any way by Molly Weasley’s rant. She just sat there, in all her toad-like-ness, taking notes and smiling insipidly at the Minister every so often. Hermione did her best to look impassive the entire way through the trial. But her resolve cracked when the judgement was given.

“We find Miss Hermione Jean Granger to be guilty of using the Cruciatus Curse on a person unknown…”

“He’s _not_ unknown!” Harry bellowed.

“But as the conditions she was in were exceptional,” Fudge continued, frowning at Harry, who was being held down by Sirius, “her punishment shall be considerably lighter than she deserves.”

Hermione could have sworn she heard several of her friends mutter that she didn’t deserve any punishment, but decided that she must have imagined it.

“After speaking with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the Minister said, “we have decided on a course of action which we hope will be acceptable to Miss Granger.”

Like she has a choice, Severus thought sourly, watching from the back of the room. He had given testimony in her favour; and though he put on a show of indifference and complete boredom, not to mention an air of having been forced into doing it, he still paid her more compliments than he ever paid any of his Slytherins, though only Dumbledore and Sirius noticed this.

“I’m ready to accept it,” Hermione said, giving him her best Winnie the Pooh ‘Stare’, her chin slightly raised in a show of bravery and defiance, while her hands trembled ever-so-slightly. “I have freely admitted to my actions, given my reasons for doing them; and while I may act different if given the chance again, I still believe that I did no real wrong. However, I respect the Ministry’s wishes, and will accept my punishment with a dignity befitting anyone of Pureblood ancestry, since that would seem to satisfy you.”

Many people were impressed with her speech, including those in the prosecution who had been casting aspersions on her character during the trial.

“Good words, Miss Granger,” Fudge said, nodding, “and I expect you to stick to them. The… arrangement… is that you will do your teaching apprenticeship at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione’s heart soared, “in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said, nodding while cheers erupted from her friends, and even some of the teachers. But Dumbledore still didn’t look entirely happy. Why not? “And do you have a teacher for the subject yet?”

“We do,” Fudge said, shifting a little in his seat, glancing down at his papers and then to Hermione rapidly. “Dolores Umbridge.”

It took Hermione several moments to realise the meaning of his words. This was definitely going to be one of ‘those’ days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge shall still be teaching at Hogwarts; but what of the curriculum? Will that change with an apprentice being present? And how will the rest of the year turn out, then? Will more of Hermione’s memories return?
> 
> Who’s worked out what triggers them?


	57. Return to Hogwarts

Hermione’s apprenticeship would be for three years. Of course, with the curse on the job, she knew that Umbridge wouldn’t last the year, and wondered how many other teachers would come and go. This was possibly, on reflection, the worst subject they could have picked for her to apprentice in.

No. On second thoughts, Divination would have been the worse. They definitely would have needed a new teacher for that within hours, if not minutes. In fact, they would have needed a new apprentice as well, as Hermione would have been incarcerated in Azkaban for murder. DADA was definitely a better subject for her.

There were apprentice quarters near each of the houses, as not many apprentices would be taken on at one time. So Hermione would be residing not far from the Gryffindor tower, which was a comforting thought for her. She could floo directly to the DADA classroom, or to Umbridge’s office; and her status as an ‘assistant teacher’ gave her the privilege of giving and docking house points, and handing out detentions, even if she couldn’t supervise them.

Her apprenticeship duties would include marking papers, setting up the classroom, and privately tutoring students if they needed it, under supervision. She would also assist in classroom teaching, both practical and written, if the students required it. In her second year, she could set part of the curriculum, half of the homework, and lead some classes. The third year would consist of her setting half of the curriculum, still setting half of the homework, creating some of the exams, and co-teaching almost every class.

At least, that was how an ordinary apprenticeship would go. But this apprenticeship, as it turned out, was more like house arrest.

And when she found out the ‘curriculum’, Hermione nearly flipped her lid.

“Where’s the practical part?” she asked Professor Umbridge calmly. The pink-clad woman looked over at her.

“Practical? Why on earth would they need to learn practical magic?” she asked in her high-pitched voice.

“Well, this is Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione said, blinking.

“My dear, there’s nothing they need to defend themselves from, nobody to harm them,” Umbridge said. As she was clearly mad, Hermione decided not to argue the existence of Voldemort with her.

“What if they start fighting in corridors?” she said instead.

“Then we—the teachers—shall deal with them,” Umbridge replied.

“But what if…” Hermione wondered how to couch the question, and Umbridge looked at her, waiting with little patience.

“What if _what_?” she finally asked, and Hermione decided to put it bluntly.

“What if a female student, for example, is attacked by a man during a Hogsmeade weekend, and has access to her wand?” she said. “Should she just let him… take her? Or should she defend herself? If so, how can she know how to defend herself?”

“Students aren’t allowed to use magic in Hogsmeade,” Umbridge said simply. “And there will be teachers to help them. Not to mention that the students shouldn’t be alone, anyway. In groups of three or more, naturally, and out in the open.”

“Of… of course,” Hermione said, not convinced. “You’re absolutely right. But don’t you agree that they should still be learning defensive magic? After all, better that they learn in a safe, controlled environment, surely?”

“My dear, I think you should leave the curriculum to me, and maybe you can put forward your ideas to the headmaster at the end of your first year,” Umbridge said, her tone clearly putting an end to the conversation. She could sense that this girl might make trouble. Well, that’s why she was there. To keep an eye on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh. Things are getting onto dangerous ground for Hermione. She’ll really have to watch herself. Hopefully she’ll have enough sense to warn the impetuous Mr. Potter about this, so he won’t get himself into trouble with Umbridge in the first class like he does in the book.


	58. The First Class

Harry, that impetuous boy, had been forewarned by Hermione. He had been shocked, annoyed, angry, not just at the curriculum but at Umbridge and the Ministry. In fact, he was having issues with _The Daily Prophet_ as well, and with his fellow school students, the ones who didn’t believe that Lord Voldemort had returned, despite the fact that Hermione had been there, too.

So when it came to the first sixth year class with the Gryffindors and Slytherins in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Hermione really didn’t know how it would go. What would Harry say, or do?

But instead, it was Ron who went mental.

Well, perhaps ‘mental’ would be too strong a word. Hermione still regretted not having told him. She never considered how angry he might get; and things were still rocky between them. She wasn’t sure if their friendship would ever really recover, which was a real pity, since she got on so well with the rest of the Weasleys.

“What do you mean, we won’t learn magic?” Ron asked furiously. Umbridge just looked at him with her wide, sickly-sweet smile.

“You’ll be reading your Ministry-approved textbook,” she said, and Ron glared at Hermione.

“I bet you’re just loving this,” he said, his voice low with anger. Hermione gripped the desk she was leaning against, trying to remain calm. “You and your books. You were always rubbish at the practical part of defence…”

“And yet I won the Triwizard Tournament,” Hermione said, her voice equally quiet, but far more controlled. Even the Slytherins were impressed, as they enjoyed the Gryffindor stand-off. “Book-learning is important, and you could use the extra practise at reading, I’m sure.”

The Slytherins laughed at that, as Ron’s ears turned red; he just continued to scowl at Hermione, who actually felt proud at having made the Slytherins laugh. Even if it was at the expense of one of her former friends. What was happening to her? Was she so eager to be a good teacher?

Or did she just want the approval of a certain Potions teacher?

Ron continued to mutter about books, while Harry looked at Hermione, a little confused, but still apologetic. She shrugged at him while Umbridge wasn’t looking, and instead distributed the books by hand, knowing better than to use magic in front of the new teacher.

Hermione felt terrible; she felt useless, and weak. How were the students supposed to learn defensive magic if the teacher wouldn’t allow it? There were Slytherins who weren’t connected to Voldemort in any way, or any Death Eaters; she was sure of it, and pitied them. They were in a difficult position. Then there were the Muggleborns like her, the Half-Bloods and Blood Traitors. What would happen if there was a battle?

If only she could teach them privately…

Hermione paused before she placed a textbook on Neville’s desk, a crazy idea suddenly coming to her.

“Er… Hermione? Uh, Miss Granger; sorry.” She looked down, and quickly gave Neville the textbook.

“That’s right,” Umbridge said, and Hermione snapped out of it enough to listen. “You will call her ‘Miss Granger’, not ‘Hermione’. She was your friend before, but she is now an apprentice teacher, and must be addressed with respect.”

“Thank you, Professor Umbridge,” Hermione said quietly, returning to the front of the room after handing out the last three textbooks.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Umbridge said sweetly, and Hermione felt a toothache coming on. “And Professor Dumbledore told me to remind you to call us by our first names.”

“And the students?” Hermione asked.

“You will use their last names, such as ‘Mister Malfoy’, or ‘Miss Brown’,” Umbridge said, and Hermione smiled. With a nod, she just listened carefully the rest of the lesson, focussing on her new role as an apprentice, and forgetting her idea for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what Hermione’s idea is? I’m sorry that we’re just getting technical stuff at the moment, but I feel it’s important that what Hermione learns is ‘shown’, and not just ‘told’.


	59. The First Real Dinner

“How was Miss Granger’s first day as an apprentice?” Severus asked Umbridge over dinner. Hermione was busy looking off into space, thinking about her idea.

“I think she did well,” Umbridge said. “Of course, she has a lot to learn about teaching, but it _is_ only her first day.”

“Miss Granger is a quick learner,” Severus said. Hermione, hearing that, blushed, and concentrated on eating instead of thinking, with occasional looks to the student tables, to make sure that no one was misbehaving. “I hear she gave the sixth years a laugh.”

“What? Oh, that,” Hermione said, and she felt ashamed. “I’m afraid I embarrassed Ron a bit…”

“Mr. Weasley, remember,” Umbridge said.

“O-of course,” Hermione said. “Sorry. That will take getting used to. At least it makes it easier when talking to F… the Weasley twins. I don’t have to worry about telling them apart.”

“Indeed,” Minerva said, joining the conversation from Hermione’s right. “But whatever pranks they pull on their fellow students—and teachers—they’re always in on it together, so you assign them detention at the same time.”

Hermione sighed. “Assigning detentions. Something else I have to get used to.”

“You’ll catch on quickly,” Umbridge said. “Just send them to me, and I’ll deal with them.”

“Or to Mr. Filch,” Hermione said, smirking. She couldn’t wait to give Malfoy a detention.

“Don’t abuse your power, Miss Granger,” Severus said, and Hermione nearly choked on the pumpkin juice she was just sipping.

“That’s rich,” she spluttered into her napkin, but he heard her all the same. So did many of the teachers. Those who didn’t hear guessed, as they were thinking the exact same thing.

“What was that?” Severus asked, cocking his head. Umbridge, out of curiosity, stayed silent.

“Nothing,” Hermione croaked, and she poured herself some water to soothe her throat.

“Really?” Severus said, and Hermione nervously looked him in the eye. He was smirking, and that did it.

“I was just remarking on the fact that you should hardly be talking about abuse of power, when it comes to dealing out punishments to students,” she said, drawing herself up in her seat, and placing her napkin on the table. Before he could reply, she continued, standing up and preparing to leave the hall. “Good night, everyone. Good night… Severus,” she added, and she left.

“That girl’s a menace, and I pity you,” Severus told Umbridge, also standing. He nodded a good night to the rest of the staff, and left the table as well.

He had half-hoped that Hermione might be waiting outside for him; but, of course, she wasn’t. Why would she be? With confused thoughts, he went to the dungeons. Before he could even reach the door, however, he felt a pain in his arm, and mentally cursed the Dark Lord for calling for him on a school night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if Umbridge seems a bit out of character, but since we’ve no idea how this scene would have gone if the books had gone this way… well… Who knows?


	60. News for the Dark Lord

“I hear that the Mudblood Granger is now teaching at Hogwarts?” Lord Voldemort said, as Severus remained kneeling at his feet.

“She is Dolores Umbridge’s apprentice, yes,” Severus replied.

“Interesting,” Voldemort said, stroking Nagini, who was looking hungrily at the Potions teacher. Severus briefly wondered if there was actually an antivenin for her poison, but returned his attention to the Dark Lord. “And why did you not inform me earlier?”

“As you say, she is not of pure blood, Master,” Severus said. “I deemed her unworthy of your attention… at least until she does something of real interest. She is also there on the orders of the Ministry. Although, I believe that with your return, she had begged the headmaster to let her stay at Hogwarts in some capacity. In fact, my lord, she had the audacity to put herself forward for the job of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“How do you know this?” Voldemort said, leaning forward.

“I was speaking to the old fool about it,” Severus said with a sneer. “About her apprenticeship. It was out of curiosity. She was so desperate to keep safe that she secured three other possible apprenticeships just in case.”

“She likes to have back up options,” Voldemort said, letting Nagini slither free. Severus suppressed a shudder as her body moved over his legs, as she passed on her way to the other side of the room. He _really_ didn’t like snakes, for all that he was a Slytherin.

“She probably also feels protective towards Potter,” Lucius Malfoy said from the side.

“Did I say that you could speak, Lucius?” Voldemort hissed.

“N-no, my lord. Forgive me.”

“I forgive you only because this is your house, and you are kind enough to let me stay here,” the Dark Lord said. “It _is_ kindness, isn’t it? Or is it just fear? _Crucio_ ,” he said, and Lucius was on the ground, twitching and flailing, gritting his teeth to stop himself from screaming. Voldemort lifted his wand, stopping the curse. “ _Now_ you are forgiven.”

“Th-thank you, Master,” Lucius said, getting to his feet shakily, and bracing himself against the wall while he recovered.

“Now,” Voldemort said. “Severus, you return to Hogwarts, and keep me informed of anything interesting that you notice the Mudblood doing. Also, keep an eye on that Umbridge woman. She may be dangerous… or she may be valuable. We have an Azkaban break-out to plan,” he added to the other Death Eaters, and Severus left quietly, to go straight to the headmaster’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was this chapter? Was it okay? I like the thought that Voldemort is interested in keeping tabs on Umbridge, just as Umbridge is keeping tabs on Hermione and Harry. H&H will doubtless suffer intense paranoia as time goes on.


	61. Morning

“Is it just me,” Hermione quietly asked Umbridge over breakfast, “or does Professor Snape—uh, Severus—look tired?”

“I had a bad night’s sleep, Granger,” Severus said, hearing her perfectly well. “Took Dreamless Sleep potion in the end, for all the good that it did.” He ended on a mutter, so that nobody would hear him.

“Sorry to hear it, sir,” she said, returning to her breakfast.

“Severus, it really doesn’t help Hermione if you don’t call her by her first name, and address her as a colleague instead of a student,” Umbridge said, spearing another sausage and putting it on her plate. “No wonder she forgets herself.”

“Very well then, Dolores,” Severus said, really too tired to care anymore. “Good morning, _Hermione_.”

“Good morning, S-severus,” she said. She liked the sound of her name when he spoke it, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

“That’s better,” Umbridge said approvingly, and the other teachers all looked at each other, and then to Hermione, who was blushing, and Severus, who really did look exhausted. Finally, the apprentice looked up from her plate, and instead looked to the Gryffindor table, where she saw that Fred and George were up to something.

“Will you excuse me a minute?” she asked the teachers, standing. “I just want to speak to Mr. Weasley about yesterday, and make sure that we won’t have a repeat performance tomorrow, particularly as it’s double Defence.”

“If you’re sure, dear,” Umbridge said sweetly, and Hermione nodded. She made her way swiftly to the Gryffindor table, grateful that the Weasley twins were only a few seats away from their younger brother.

“Mr. Weasley?” Hermione barked, and all three boys jumped. Several of the others jumped, too. “I trust you’ll be better behaved in class tomorrow than you were yesterday, with your disgraceful behaviour.”

“Where do you get off ordering me about?” Ron asked, furious.

“Covering for what I’m about to say,” Hermione hissed, looking directly at the twins. “I know you two are up to something, and as I don’t want to get you into trouble, out of respect for our friendship, and working relationship, I thought I’d just implore you _not_ to do… whatever it is.”

“Oh, Hermione, Hermione,” Fred said, shaking his head. “It’s only product testing. You know, some of that spy equipment that you commissioned us to make?”

“If I’d known I was going to have Umbridge as my teacher, I would never have asked you for such a thing while you were still at school,” Hermione said, and she groaned.

“But out of respect for _you_ , Miss Granger,” George said.

“We’ll save it for another time,” Fred continued.

“Where we have more privacy…”

“In a safer environment…”

“With your supervision,” they finished, and Hermione’s idea came back.

“I’ll send you an owl later on,” she said. “Be in your common room, after dinner. That’s where the owl will go. I have a possible solution to our problems.”

“Problems? There are more than one?” Harry asked, grinning, as he passed the marmalade to Neville with one hand while he continued to hold Ginny’s hand with the other.

“Aren’t there _always_ more than one problem?” Hermione asked, and she smiled as she headed back to the staff table.

“Well?” Umbridge asked as Hermione took her place again, and reached for her pumpkin juice.

“I think it’ll be okay,” the apprentice told her, as she watched Harry speaking to Ron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes; it shall all be fine, fair readers. Sigh.


	62. An Owl

Fred and George waited as patiently as they could in the common room; and Hermione was as good as her word. The owl arrived not long after they did, bringing a relatively short message:

 

_Dear Mr. and Mr. Weasley,_

_I have asked the house elves, and they have told me of a place called the Room of Requirement. As I want to continue my education as an apprentice properly, I feel that I need more of a chance to teach. With the current situation, I’m sure that there are many students who feel that they need more of a chance to learn Defence._

_Therefore, I propose that we make use of said room for both our purposes. I can teach Defence, and you can try out your inventions while I’m around, able to assist if anything goes wrong. This would all be in secret, of course._

_Please let me know by return owl what you think, and if you wish, we can talk further at a safer time, and in a safer place. Perhaps Hogsmeade?_

_Hermione Granger._

 

The twins grinned at each other. Who would have thought this was their Hermione writing to them about such a thing? They _had_ to show Harry the note.

He was fascinated, but agreed that they should accept. And what was this Room of Requirement? They had to find out.

House elves, eh? Well, they all knew a house elf who’d happily provide them with information…

“Dobby?” Harry called, and the elf appeared promptly.

“How may Dobby help Harry Potter?” he asked cheerily, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We were wondering if you could tell us about the Room of Requirement?” Harry said.

“Ah,” Dobby said. “Hermione Granger thought that Harry Potter might ask.”

“She knows us too well,” Harry said, and Ginny came to sit with them, sick of seeing her brother and Lavender Brown going for each other so disgustingly. It seems that making them prefects hadn’t made them any more mature.

“What’s going on?” she asked, and George handed her the note. She read it while Dobby explained.

“On one of the floors, there is a portrait of a troll, and a blank wall opposite,” Dobby told them. “If you walk in front of the blank wall three times, thinking of the kind of room you want, then a door will appear, and you can use that room. Anything you need, you just have to think about it, and it will appear.” Dobby finished with a grin, and he disappeared.

“Tell her that we’ll meet her in Hogsmeade,” Harry said. Fred wrote the reply, George attached it to the owl, and they watched it fly out the window of the common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrah! And so the DA will soon begin…


	63. Back to Hogsmeade

It was easy enough for Hermione to get permission to go to Hogsmeade. Umbridge was going along as one of the supervising teachers, and naturally her apprentice had to come as well; it would just be a matter of getting away to talk to the others in the Three Broomsticks as arranged. Under other circumstances, Hermione would have suggested that they meet somewhere more private; but as an apprentice teacher, she had to be near the other students.

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Hermione said as she and Umbridge walked along in the cold. “Should we head inside? Perhaps the Three Broomsticks?”

“You go inside, dear,” she said. “Severus is already there, but he may need help watching the students during the lunch hour. I’m going to check the Shrieking Shack. Students have been known to hang around there, creating trouble, and then I might lunch at Madame Puddyfoot’s, and keep an eye on the students who are pairing up inappropriately.”

Hermione bid the teacher good afternoon as they went their separate ways. Wasn’t it just dandy that the potions teacher would be in the pub at the same time? How typical…

“Her-Miss Granger!” Ginny called from one booth; and Hermione, with a quick glance to the bar where Severus was sitting—keeping an eye on every patron, student and villager alike—joined her friends.

“Afternoon,” she said, sitting down.

“Butterbeer?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded. She was surprised to see Neville at the table as well, but didn’t comment. He was probably lonely, and she was glad to have him in on the plan. He was a very loyal friend. She just hoped that the twins weren’t planning to experiment on him.

Harry returned with the drink, and refused to let Hermione pay for it.

“This isn’t a bribe, is it?” she asked, smiling.

“Who cares if it is?” George said. “Now, what’s your plan, _Miss_ Granger?”

“I think that we should all be prepared to fight,” she said. “I remember all these spells that I’ve been taught, which I must have learnt this year and next year… in the past. Er, future? To tell the truth, I wish my memories were as easy to remember as the spells are,” and she looked sad for a moment. “But enough of that. Harry, you’re brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts. You would have beat me to the Triwizard Trophy if I hadn’t been trying to stop you from touching it.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, also looking down. Ginny squeezed his hand, and he smiled at his girlfriend.

“So what were you thinking?” Fred asked. “Oh, you don’t mind that we invited Neville, do you?”

“Only he’s been very obliging, helping us get some of the ingredients for our potions and such,” George said. “We felt he could come in handy; he’s sort of an extra partner.”

“That’s wonderful!” Hermione said, beaming. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I need the extra tuition, anyway,” Neville said, smiling back at her shyly.

“If Harry will agree to help me teach the class, I think we should gather together anyone who wants to learn more about defending themselves, just in case V-voldemort attacks the school,” Hermione continued, dropping her voice down at the name, and glancing around the pub cautiously. “We need to be prepared.”

“Like the scouts,” Harry said, and everyone except Hermione looked confused. “Sorry; Muggle reference.”

“Then after classes, we can get the students to repay the extracurricular tuition by helping you test your products,” Hermione said. “The room will provide you with anything you need, as no doubt Dobby told you.”

“It’s a great idea,” Ginny said. “I think we should do it. Who did you have in mind to teach?”

“Muggleborns, first and foremost,” Hermione said. “Half-bloods as well, though they’re less at risk. Anyone we can get who feels that they need the extra help.”

“To Hermione,” Neville said, raising his glass. “Sorry; Miss Granger. To her excellent plan.” They clinked glasses.

“The Defence Association?” Harry suggested. “The DA?”

“Half of the class’s initials,” Hermione said, tilting her head. “How appropriate.”

“To the DA,” Ginny said, and they all toasted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter ended with Severus overhearing them, and the girls getting a terrifying sense of déjà vu.


	64. Defence Association

They met on the seventh floor at the appointed room. Hermione was surprised to see so many people, as was Harry. They had chosen this particular night because Ron and Lavender would be patrolling, and therefore wouldn’t notice the large absence of Gryffindors.

“Well, this will be interesting,” Hermione muttered. She was glad that she’d brought along plenty of fake Galleons. They’d only be short about five, and she could easily copy them from her supply.

“Thank you for coming,” Harry said. “Uh, just try to keep quiet until Hermione can open the room for us.”

While Hermione paced back and forth in front of the blank wall, Harry tried to convince the students that Voldemort was, indeed, back. When the door finally appeared, Hermione ushered them all in. They’d certainly have to convince everyone now; they couldn’t risk Umbridge finding out about the DA.

“Okay, troops,” she said, closing the door behind them before checking to make sure that they weren’t being watched.

“You make us sound like an army,” Ginny said with a nervous giggle.

“Yeah, Harry’s army,” Neville said.

“It’s the DA,” Harry reminded them, embarrassed. “Defence…”

“Dumbledore’s Army!” Hermione blurted out, and she wondered where that came from. She shook her head in confusion, and looked up to see everyone watching her. “Sorry. I… never mind.”

“That’s good, Granger!” the Weasley twins chorused.

“That’s ‘Miss Granger’ to you,” Luna said in her best high-pitched voice, and everyone laughed at the imitation of Professor Umbridge.

But there was still disbelief amongst some of the students. Harry leaned over to Hermione where they stood in front of the crowd, facing them.

“If only we could show them what happened,” he whispered to her.

“What we’d need would be a Pensieve,” Hermione whispered back.

“What’s that?” Hannah Abbott asked, pointing behind them, and Harry and Hermione whipped around. There, in the middle of the floor, was a giant Pensieve. They looked at each other, and grinned.

“It’s time,” Harry said, as Hermione drew out her memory and placed it in the big pool of memories, “for you to see what happened. Hermione?”

“It’s in, Harry,” she said, and they stepped up to the edge of the giant Pensieve. “Come and look,” she called to the students, and they all stood around the edge. It was just large enough to accommodate them. With a look at Harry, and a nod, Hermione leapt into the swirling mass first, and was followed closely by everyone else.

They were stunned by what they saw. When Hermione cast the Cruciatus Curse on Barty Crouch, there were gasps; and when Harry was stabbed, some of the girls burst into tears at his anguished look. The memory faded soon after they landed back outside the maze, and everyone was back in the Room of Requirement. The Pensieve shimmered away, and there was silence for several minutes.

Hermione arranged it so that they all put their names down in alphabetical order, Harry organising everyone in a line for her to save time. She duplicated some of the coins while she waited, and by the end everyone had signed the piece of enchanted parchment, and also had their fake Galleons. Harry and Hermione’s names were at the top as Instructors. Twenty-five students signed up. They were:

Hannah Abbott

Katie Bell

Susan Bones

Terry Boot

Cho Chang

Michael Corner

Colin Creevey

Dennis Creevey

Marietta Edgecombe

Justin Finch-Fletchley

Seamus Finnigan

Anthony Goldstein

Angelina Johnson

Lee Jordon

Neville Longbottom

Luna Lovegood

Ernie MacMillan

Padma Patil

Parvati Patil

Zacharias Smith

Alicia Spinnet

Dean Thomas

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Hermione could tell that it was going to be an interesting year. If she hadn’t believed it before, she sure as anything believed it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I included the list as a reference for myself as much as anything else. Ron and Lavender aren’t involved in this because they’re too involved in each other, and taking their Prefect duties very seriously.


	65. Bad Press

It seemed that every day _The Daily Prophet_ was giving them a roasting, care of Rita Skeeter. Hermione had had problems with the reporter last year over the Triwizard Tournament, and had discovered her illegal Animagus status. She had hoped that Ms. Skeeter would remember their deal, but clearly she thought that Hermione didn’t have the gumption to turn her into the Ministry of Magic.

Well, that was a _big_ mistake on her part.

One morning, she snapped. Carefully folding the newspaper in half, she stood from the table, bid good morning to the teachers, and hurried up to the owlery. She sent a letter to the Ministry to tell them that knew of someone who was an illegal Animagus, and requested an audience with someone to talk about it.

She was back in the DADA classroom with fifteen minutes to spare before the first class, and waited patiently for a reply.

By the end of the class, the school owl had returned with a letter, which Hermione put into her pocket to read later. Over lunch she opened the missive, and read it very quickly.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Thank you very much for you letter. We have allotted you an appointment with Louisa Featherking for 10:30am this coming Saturday. Please do not be late._

_Sincerely,_

_Harriet Whalesmith._

 

Hermione smiled. Oh, Rita Skeeter was so going down.


	66. Rita Skeeter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, posting ten of these at once due to continuing to forget to post new chapters. Please, if you enjoy this story enough even just to leave a very short positive review, do so. It helps me remember that people are reading this.

When Hermione sent her reply, confirming the appointment, she told them that the Animagus in question was Rita Skeeter, and that she’d give details when she met with Ms. Featherking.

The reply was quite unexpected. She would instead be meeting with the Minister for Magic.

“Bad news, Hermione?” Umbridge asked over breakfast the next day.

“Uh, just unexpected,” the apprentice answered. “I’m afraid that I’m needed elsewhere on Saturday morning. I have to clear it with the headmaster.”

“Of course you may go, Hermione,” Dumbledore said, having overheard their conversation. “Just send a Patronus or an owl if you’re going to be late.”

“Yes, sir.”

That Saturday, Hermione was a bundle of nerves. She had breakfast early, remembering the last time she had an appointment—of sorts—at the Ministry. She left Hogwarts via floo at nine, and was fortunate enough to meet Mr. Weasley, who took her to the Minister’s office. Wishing her good luck, he went back to his own department, leaving Hermione waiting, every second making her more nervous.

Just a few minutes before ten-thirty, Rita Skeeter turned up, and glared at Hermione.

“So,” she said angrily. “You’re the reason I’m here.”

“I… uh…” Hermione began, but the Minister’s new secretary—Umbridge’s replacement—cleared her throat before either woman could draw their wand. When it was ten-thirty precisely, she led them into the Minister’s office, and Fudge looked up at the women.

“Ah! Ladies,” he said, though he clearly didn’t believe that either of them deserved the title ‘lady’. “Please, take a seat. Both of you. I’m afraid that this is a very serious accusation that you have made against Ms. Skeeter, Miss Granger.”

“I’m perfectly well aware of that, Minister,” Hermione said stiffly. Someone entered the room behind them, and she turned in surprise to see Kingsley and Moody enter. Neither smiled at Hermione, or even acknowledged that they knew her.

“Oh, this will certainly be going into _The Prophet_ ,” Rita said, her eyes glittering dangerously at Hermione.

“I’ll be able to put the article into the archive of slanderous material against me that you’ve written for the past year,” she replied, her own eyes hinting at danger. The Minister cleared his throat, and the women turned to him. Moody and Kingsley hid their amusement successfully.

“Minister, I discovered that Ms. Skeeter was an Animagus in June of this year; her form is a beetle, which is how she is able to listen in on private conversations without being noticed,” Hermione said. Rita sent a death glare at the younger woman.

“It is October now,” Fudge said, looking between them. He raised his eyebrows at the Aurors, who shrugged back at them.

“Yes, Minister,” Hermione said carefully.

“You’ve waited four months to inform the Ministry?” the Minister clarified. Hermione thought fast.

“I had hoped that Ms. Skeeter might do the right thing, and register herself in the meantime,” she said. “A look at the Animagus Register the other day confirmed my suspicions that she hadn’t done so. I have far too much faith in humankind, it seems,” she continued, keeping a smirk off her face. It wouldn’t do her any good if she looked smug. Not in this situation.

“I see,” Fudge said, twirling a quill in his hand.

“Minister, I must protest,” Rita said. “She has no proof.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Hermione said, the corners of her lips twitching. “I’m willing to swear under Veritaserum. Are you, Ms. Skeeter?” Rita’s mouth opened and closed, and she swallowed nervously.

“Are you threatening me?” she finally asked defensively. Hermione turned around in her seat to face the two Aurors.

“Did it sound like a threat?” she asked them, and they shook their heads.

“Well… well…” Fudge said, twirling the quill even more furiously.

“However,” Hermione began, and everyone looked at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> However what? Well, you’ll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out, won’t you? Mwa-ha-ha!


	67. Hermione's Latest Great Idea

“Well, what is it?” Fudge asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Hermione.

“I’m afraid that I must confess to something,” she said, bowing her head.

“What?” Fudge pressed.

“I spoke with Ms. Skeeter in The Three Broomsticks last time we met, and she promised that, in exchange for my silence, she wouldn’t write any more slander against myself or Harry. Which, of course, she has.”

“Yes, yes,” the minister said.

“Granger,” Rita said oh-so-very-quietly, her wand hand twitching; and it wasn’t reaching for her Quick Quotes Quill, either. Moody and Kingsley stiffened, keeping an eye on her, worried for Hermione’s safety.

“Thing is, I let something slip—something quite unimportant now, of course—and, worried that she’d spill, I… may have cast a Memory Charm on her.” Hermione finished on a mutter, trying desperately to look guilty. Rita raised her eyebrows, and glanced at Fudge.

“Miss Granger,” he began, but Hermione held up her hand.

“I’m of age, and can technically use magic outside of school, in my own time,” she said primly. “But I’m also aware that Memory Charms are regarded poorly… so to speak.”

“Damned well illegal, girl,” Moody growled. However, he could tell that it was a lie, and was impressed. Fudge wasn’t so perceptive.

“I see,” he said, clearing his throat.

“It was something I hadn’t intended to say, and I panicked!” Hermione said, raising her voice. “Please, Minister! I’m only human. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, running one hand through his hair as he sighed, glancing down at the mounds of paperwork on his desk. How long would this take? Should he even bother?

“I fear that perhaps I botched the spell up slightly,” Hermione continued. “I mean, Ms. Skeeter seemed to be fine—didn’t even seemed to have noticed—and she still seems all right. But she must have forgotten to tell you because of it. I must have miscalculated the amount of time I had to erase in the memory. It was a simple mistake, although driven by my own carelessness. I’m… I’m sorry, Ms. Skeeter. I’m sorry that I caused you to forget to inform the Ministry.”

“It’s all right, Gr… Miss Granger,” Rita said politely, also impressed with the lie. She owed Hermione for that one.

“If I may be so bold, Minister, to make a suggestion?” Hermione asked, and Fudge nodded tiredly.

“By all means, Miss Granger,” he said.

“Perhaps Ms. Skeeter and I could settle this without an intermediary, so to speak,” she said, cocking her head. Fudge was visibly relieved. He slumped ever so slightly in his chair with a sigh, and a small smile. For the first time, Hermione actually felt almost sorry for the politician.

“That’s fine with me, Miss Granger,” he replied. “Thank… thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” she said, standing up. She shook his hand, and left the office, glancing at Rita. The journalist followed her out. Hermione said goodbye to the Aurors, and they travelled in silence until they reached the foyer of the Ministry.

“What is it, Granger?” Rita asked, turning to Hermione abruptly.

“I know how we can make things up to each other,” she said simply. “I give you the chance to write an article on the biggest news for a long time, and you can prove both myself and Harry to be right.”

“How?”

“…Ever heard of a Pensieve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just get more and more interesting. And I’m so, so, so sorry that Hermione and Severus haven’t had much interaction lately. They’re dancing around each other at the moment, and a later chapter—maybe even the next one—will be about that. I have plans for them, but nothing can happen about them… yet.


	68. Pensieve Again

It was a long trip back to Hogwarts, because Hermione had to try and sneak Rita into the school. The problem was that, being a Saturday, people wouldn’t be in classes, making it more difficult. Also, it wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend. But she was determined to get this done as soon as possible.

They ended up flooing to the Three Broomsticks, and trekking to the gates of the school from there. As it turned out, Rita wasn’t that good at Disillusionment charms, which was why she became an Animagus. So Hermione placed one on her instead, and a Silencing Charm for extra measure. Thankful that there was no mud or snow, making any tracks evident, Hermione led her up the path to the school.

Severus was emerging from the Forbidden Forest not far from them, and almost tripped when he saw Hermione. He cleared his throat, and Hermione glanced over at him. She swallowed, waved quickly, and then sped up her steps.

“Uh, H-hermione?” he called, and she stopped abruptly with a sigh. Rita, who wasn’t expecting it, ran into Hermione. The result was that the apprentice was knocked forward with a cry, and the reporter fell back with a shriek.

Severus ran over to them, still not seeing Rita, nor hearing her. Fortunately, he didn’t notice the small cloud of dust that arose from either side of where she had fallen onto her back.

Hermione scrabbled to her feet, and dusted herself off.

“Are you all right?” Severus asked anxiously, and he took her hands in his without thinking. Hermione, conscious of the reporter eyeing them, quickly pulled them away and crossing her arms.

“I’m fine, thank you, sir… uh, Severus. Just lost my footing, that’s all.”

“Do you want me to accompany you up to Hogwarts?” he said, placing a hand on one of her arms. “I’m going there anyway, so we may as well go together.”

“Uh, you’ll probably be quicker than me, so I’m okay to walk alone,” she said, and he flinched, hurt by her rejection.

“Fine,” he said, his voice hard as his expression slipped back into its usual neutral mask. “Good day. See you at lunch.”

“I may be busy, but perhaps,” Hermione said, guilty and ashamed. She unfolded her arms as he stalked away, and turned back. She held out a hand, which Rita took, and helped her up.

“Let’s go,” she continued to the reporter.

Once inside the Room of Requirement, Hermione removed the charms, and Rita appeared, grinning smugly.

“This won’t take long,” Hermione told her, and she wished for the giant Pensieve to show up like it did last time. She then wished for a camera, which appeared on a stand near the giant pool of memories. “I can assure you, this is a great story.”

“I think I’ve found an even better one,” Rita said, still smiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever happened between you and Severus Snape back there.”

“Oh, that,” Hermione said, and she twiddled her thumbs a little. “It’s just confusing, our roles changing so abruptly, what with me now being an apprentice, no longer a student. That’s… that’s all. Really.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“ _Really_. Now, grab that camera, and let’s get this over with, all right?”

“Okay.”

Minutes later, they emerged from the Pensieve, Rita armed with photographs of Lord Voldemort’s ‘body’, Barty Crouch stabbing Harry Potter, and notes of the conversation. She raised an eyebrow at Hermione’s use of the Cruciatus Curse, but promised that she wouldn’t mention it in the article.

“Don’t forget to send me the draft of the article before it can go to print,” Hermione said, and Rita nodded. “And please… nothing about Severus and me. There’s nothing going on, and I got so much hate mail after the last lot of articles you wrote about me. I don’t want that again.” Rita promised her with a put-upon sigh. Hermione thought about a fireplace with floo powder, and one appeared in the room. They said their farewells, and Rita left in a whirl of green flames, Hermione still feeling uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Could have been better, but I’m more concerned with writing the article now. You got a bit of Hermione/Severus interaction, so I hope that that’s quenched your thirst for now. Now… for lunch!


	69. Lunch

A seat next to Severus was the only one left, as the empty space was also next to Umbridge. Hermione was worried. He took things so personally; and in this case, she was just trying to put a halt to anything Rita Skeeter might write about them. As it is, she wasn’t entirely trusting of the reporter’s promise not to write anything.

“H-hello, S-severus,” she said, squeezing into the seat. He grunted in response.

“How was your morning, Hermione?” Umbridge asked, clearly eager to get information out of her apprentice.

“Oh, all right,” Hermione replied. She glanced at Severus, whose tight jaw was the only indication of any emotion on his part. She felt incredibly guilty. But if he had tried to talk to her about The Kiss while Skeeter was listening, she could just imagine what kind of things the journalist would write. And then Severus would be even more furious, with her.

“What did you get up to?” Umbridge said.

“I was meeting someone in Hogsmeade, and then came back to Hogwarts afterwards,” she said.

“Oh, really? Who did you meet?”

“Someone I met during the Triwizard Tournament,” Hermione said.

“Krum?” Severus said, gripping his cutlery.

“N-no. Viktor’s busy touring. He said so in his last owl to me; otherwise I’d have no way of knowing. Well, I suppose I could ask one of the boys… uh, Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley. At least, I _would_ have done. But then they go on for _so long_ about Quidditch with very little prompting, and it really doesn’t interest me.”

Severus snorted. “But Quidditch players do.”

Hermione looked at him strangely, as did some of the other staff members, including Umbridge. He glared at them, and they quickly returned to eating.

“Anyway, is there anything you need me to do for you today, D-dolores?” she continued.

“If you could mark some essays for me, that means that I won’t have to do it during the detention tonight,” her ‘mentor’ replied.

“Who’s got detention?”

“Mr. Potter, actually,” Umbridge said. “I caught him out after curfew, wandering the corridors last night.”

“What on earth was he doing?” Hermione asked, wishing that she was back in school, so that she might have stopped him. Or, more to the point, been the one patrolling. What had happened to his Invisibility Cloak?

“He’ll tell me tonight,” Umbridge said, smiling sweetly. Hermione swallowed hard, and continued with her meal in silence, with occasional looks at Severus, who refused to look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know what’s going to happen now? Yes. It will be the first infamous detention, which will start a chain reaction… once Hermione finds out what happens during the detention.


	70. Just Missing Harry

Compelled to write to Rita and make sure that she really wasn’t going to write an article based on the tenuous interaction between herself and Severus, Hermione took a break from marking papers to send a carefully-composed owl to the reporter. She then returned to the essays.

With a sigh, she stacked them all together and tied them with some string to take to Umbridge. Maybe she could wave discreetly to Harry while she was in the office.

Unfortunately he was just leaving the office as she arrived. Checking the time, she wasn’t surprised—his detention must have been going for three hours.

“Evening, Harry!” she said cheerfully, using his first name since Umbridge wasn’t around. “How was it?”

He sent her a look, holding his robes over his hands. Frowning, he took off towards Gryffindor tower without replying. She frowned herself at his retreating body, wondering what that was all about. Was he annoyed that she hadn’t taken his detention instead? Hmph. Well, he’d just have to get over that.

She knocked, and Umbridge told her to enter.

“I’ve brought the essays,” Hermione said, handing them over.

“Well done, Hermione,” Umbridge said approvingly. “You got them all done in record time. Like writing your own essays, so I’ve heard.” She smiled at Hermione, who smiled back politely.

“Indeed,” she replied. “But it’s certainly easier to mark other people’s work. I think I’m looking forward to being a teacher myself one day. I had never really thought about what I’d do career-wise, being a Muggleborn.”

“You’ll do well,” Umbridge said, indicating that Hermione should sit opposite her. The apprentice obeyed, and waited patiently. “You just… you just mix with the wrong company, through no fault of your own, of course, my dear! Ah, if only the Malfoys weren’t so biased… if you had contacts like them, you could do very well.”

“I seem to have done all right so far, by myself,” Hermione replied, suppressing a frown.

“What I mean, Hermione, is that connections are important,” Umbridge told her apprentice, leaning against the table to place a hand over Hermione’s arm. “Things will be harder because of your unfortunate… heritage.”

Hermione blessed her calm nature; if she had been Ron—or, Merlin forbid, Harry—then she probably would have hexed Umbridge, which wouldn’t look very good, since Umbridge was there to spy on her as well as Harry. The Ministry would certainly take a very dim view of it. Stupid Ministry. Stupid Cornelius Fudge.

As Umbridge spoke, and Hermione tried to keep her wand hand calm, she glanced down at the desk modestly, and noticed what looked to be blood. Had Umbridge cut herself? Not that she actually cared. Nothing seemed to be amiss.

Oh hell. Harry didn’t actually _curse_ her, did he? She needed to have a word with him.

“Well, you’re probably tired from doing all this work,” Umbridge said, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts. Her apprentice looked up with a smile, concealing her annoyance, and nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, and she left the office, wondering about the blood that she had seen, and why Umbridge hadn’t mentioned it. She also wondered what had happened with Harry.

“Too tired to think about that at the moment,” she moaned, and she wandered the short distance to her own rooms.

“Why have you been so hostile towards me?” a deep voice asked, and Hermione leaped back, wand out immediately, ready to defend herself.

“Who…”

“Honestly, Granger,” Severus said, stepping out of the shadows. “How many years have I been teaching you?”

“Well,” she said, blinking rapidly as she put away her wand, “with the time difference, so to speak, I’ve no idea.”

“Don’t be flippant,” he said, approaching her menacingly. She backed against her door, and silently lifted the wards.

“I wasn’t, P-professor Snape,” she whispered, her hand sneaking around to grasp the door handle.

“What about earlier today, when I offered to walk with you back to Hogwarts, purely to keep you company?” he asked, his voice low as she continued to walk towards her.

“Out of the kindness of your heart, I expect,” Hermione said, a sneer unfortunately creeping into her voice. Severus looked stung.

“Maybe I just…” he began, but she was in her room like a shot, putting the wards back up before he had finished speaking. He leapt forward at the closed door, and banged on it with his hands. He sighed, and continued in a hoarse whisper that no one heard. “Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.” Sighing again, he walked slowly back to his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author note: I don’t know where that came from. Days of no HG/SS interaction, and suddenly this comes out! Crazy, man…


	71. Quidditch Problems

The first Quidditch game of the season approached in early November. Hermione had been doing her best to try and keep her friends out of trouble, as she was more than nervous about Umbridge. There was just something about the woman’s false sweetness, and obsession with pink, that was a worry to the apprentice.

Harry had also started private lessons with Severus, on Dumbledore’s orders, though they didn’t seem to be going well. Hermione would have approached Severus directly about the lessons, or tried to join in to relieve any tension that would doubtless arise… under other circumstances. With the tension between them lately, however, she didn’t want to talk to him any more than strictly necessary.

“This is your first time in the teachers’ box, isn’t it?” Professor Sprout asked Hermione as they took their seats. The match was Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

“Y-yes,” Hermione said. It was technically true. After all, the time she had set Professor Snape’s robes on fire, she was _underneath_ the box, not _in_ it.

Now she looked at her former Potions teacher—just a sideways glance, really—and quickly looked away again when she saw that he was watching her from his seat. With a blush, she settled back into her own seat, and divided her conversation between Professors Sprout and Umbridge, who were either side of her.

She let her attention wander during the match, as she didn’t particularly want to cheer for Gryffindor while the man she had a crush on was a Slytherin.

A crush? she thought. No, it’s definitely more than that. Damn. Don’t tell me I’m in…

A loud cheer went up as Harry caught the Snitch. She clapped, a small smile on her face, and looked around when she felt someone watching her. It was Severus, whose eyebrows were raised at her. She turned her attention back, and was shocked to see that there was a fight brewing on the field. She ran down the stairs ahead of the other teachers, and pulled apart Harry and Malfoy. When they were joined by other players, she put up a shield between them out of desperation.

“Mr. Potter!” Umbridge called out as Harry tried to break the shield by hexing Malfoy again. “A week’s worth of detentions.”

“But, Professor!” he began.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

“But Malfoy started…”

“I said,” Umbridge said, her voice falsely sweet, “I don’t want to hear it.” Hermione winced, and Harry glared at the Defence teacher. “Oh, and you’re banned from Quidditch for the year.”

“The whole year?” Hermione exclaimed, and Umbridge looked at her.

“Is there a problem, Miss Granger?”

“W-well, it’s just… they’ll have to hold trials for a replacement, and well… the whole year is… a bit much… isn’t it?”

“I’ll decide,” Umbridge said, and Hermione glanced past her to Dumbledore. He had a strange look on his face, and the apprentice frowned.

“Tonight at seven-thirty for your detention, same as last time,” Umbridge told Harry, who fumed.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione whispered, and she reluctantly followed her professor, glancing at Severus as she passed. He continued to look at her strangely, and she averted her gaze again.


	72. Where Is It?

It was no use wishing that she was back with the other Gryffindors, to try and figure out what was wrong with Harry. Until she knew what had caused her time travel, she had no hope of getting back to her normal time. He’d had his third detention by now, and it seemed that he was avoiding her. That made scheduling the next meeting of Dumbledore’s Army somewhat difficult, and she made a point of searching him out before breakfast the next day.

“Okay. What is it?” she hissed, grabbing him by the arm. She didn’t notice him covering one of his hands.

“What’s what, _Miss Granger_?” he asked.

“Look, if you’re avoiding me, we can’t arrange the next…” She dropped her voice even further, glancing around first. “The next meeting of the DA.”

“You may have to do it without me,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Just the next meeting,” he said, sighing the words. “It’s important that we get in as many classes as we can, not that anyone believes that he’s back.”

Hermione nodded absently, thinking. She hadn’t heard back from Rita Skeeter. She left the hall, and re-entered through the teachers’ entrance. Umbridge wasn’t there yet, nor was Severus; but there was a spare seat beside Minerva, so she sat there, cheerfully greeting the teachers already eating breakfast.

Come on, she thought desperately, opening her copy of the _Prophet_ as soon as it arrived, flicking through the first few pages. Where _was_ it? She checked the rest of the paper, but it was only spouting the usual lies about herself, Harry, and Professor Dumbledore.

With a sigh, she continued with her breakfast, not noticing that Severus had arrived, sitting at the other end of the table from her, looking her way every so often.

Finally, she was done, and she put away the newspaper before standing. She saw Severus glance up at her as she passed him on her way out. Umbridge had clearly been up late, as she was only just coming in then, and looking tired.

“Are you all right, Pro… Dolores?” Hermione asked. In fact, the professor looked as though she was more than just tired.

“I’ll be fine, dear,” she said, waving her hand. She tottered over to the seat Hermione had only just vacated. The apprentice followed her over, frowning.

“I hate to disagree with you,” she said, “but you really… you said you _would_ be fine. That means that you’re not fine at the moment. After breakfast, you go to Madame Pomfrey. I’ll take classes for the day.”

Umbridge was feeling too ill to notice that Hermione was telling her what to do; she simply nodded, reminded Hermione of where the lesson plans were, and promised that she would indeed go to the infirmary. Everyone at the staff table looked up in surprise at her acquiescence, and Hermione smirked, before leaving.

She ran up to the owlery, not wanting to be late for her class. _Her_ class. As much as they were just ‘borrowed’ students, they were still hers for the time being. In fact, if Umbridge didn’t feel better soon, she’d have them for more than just one day.

She penned a quick message to Rita, politely asking her if she was all right, and if she was having trouble with getting the article to print.

Anyone reading between the lines would have seen the real message: ‘Where the hell is the article? Are you slacking out of revenge or something? Send an owl back _immediately_!’


	73. Cynicism

It turned out that Hermione’s cynicism was hardly misplaced. Rita wasn’t slacking off out of revenge, but she was certainly having difficulty getting the article published. _The Daily Prophet_ was reluctant to publish any articles that contradicted their recent standpoint on ‘the You-Know-Who is Back issue’, as Rita so sarcastically put it.

“Well,” Hermione muttered during detention with Harry that night, who was busy cleaning the desks in the DADA classroom without magic, “we’ve got to try another source, then.”

“What was that?” Harry asked, straightening up while he was working on the third-last desk.

“I… I need to find…” It hit Hermione. The article would sell even better if Harry had input as well. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? “Mr. Potter?” she began, and she moved slightly in the chair, studying her nails. Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“I’ve been trying to get our story, the story of Voldemort’s return, published,” she said, and his eyes widened. “Rita Skeeter has written the article, but is having trouble getting _The Daily Prophet_ to accept it.”

“Rita Skeeter? Are you mad?”

“If you gave her an interview, to be included with the story, maybe they’ll accept it then,” she continued, simply raising an eyebrow at his outburst. Harry was reminded of his Potions professor.

“But… but…” he said, unconsciously covering his scarred hand again; this time Hermione noticed.

“You all right, Harry?” she asked, forgetting to stay formal with him.

“I’m fine,” he muttered; but, being at the back of the room, Hermione couldn’t hear him; heaving a sigh, she stood and walked down to him.

“I didn’t hear that,” she said, and she made a grab for his arm.

“Fine! I’ll do the interview!” he said, immediately plunging his hands into the bucket of soapy water to finish cleaning.

“Thank you,” she said, and she returned to the desk to send a reply to Rita.

“And if the _Prophet_ won’t take the article… I’m sure _The Quibbler_ could use a boost in readership,” he added, and Hermione grinned.


	74. Interview With Rita

Rita Skeeter was never so pleased in all her years as a reporter. Early on in her career, she had wanted to do serious reporting; but when she started out, no one was interested in hiring a woman to do that kind of writing. So she turned her hand to tabloid pieces, and found that she had a flair for it.

Now she was interviewing The-Boy-Who-Lived for a story that no one else was willing to do, on a controversial topic that—from what she had seen, and now believed—was a defining moment in modern wizarding history. They may not have seen him come back to life; but from Hermione’s research, it was obvious that Crouch had been performing a resurrection ritual of some sort.

This was the best moment of Rita’s life so far, and there was no way that she was going to screw this up. And even if she didn’t get any more serious work after this, she’d at least have this story to remember.

Even if it was only to be published in _The Quibbler_ , as the _Prophet_ still wasn’t co-operating.

Days later, Umbridge was still in the hospital wing, and Hermione was still taking her classes. She brought sweets from Honeydukes for her mentor, hoping that, if she was nice enough, maybe Umbridge would be nicer as well, and would be on their side instead of on the side of the Ministry of Magic.

Yes, yes. It was a vain hope. But it gave her something to do, and assuaged her… well, not guilt. But she was certainly suspicious about Umbridge’s sickness, and suspected that Gryffindors may be behind it.

She was still in the hospital when the article came out in _The Quibbler_. Luna was selling copies to the student population during breakfast, and even the teachers were buying some from her. She had to send for more copies from her father partway through the meal, with promises to sell the rest of them at dinner that night.

“The day you had an appointment,” Minerva said casually, leaning towards Hermione who was trying to suppress a smug grin at everyone’s interest. “Was that the day that…”

“We did the interview, yes,” the apprentice said, nodding. “It started in Hogsmeade, and then continued up to Hogwarts, where she took photographs of the memory.”

“Where?” Dumbledore asked.

“Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?”

“Ah, yes,” the headmaster replied. “So you showed her your memories there?”

“Y-yes,” Hermione said, fiddling with her goblet.

Severus was looking at her; she could feel his eyes burning holes through the back of her head. She turned to him, and raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, Severus?” she said.

“I need to talk with you… Hermione,” he said, standing up. “In the corridor.”

“Coming,” she said, also standing. As they left the hall, she folded her copy of _The Quibbler_ , and shoved it inside her bag.

“That day,” he began.

“Yes?”

“You… you were abrupt with me.”

“I’m sorry about that. But she was with me…”

“I realise that now,” he said, looking down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him.

“I couldn’t tell you, and I couldn’t… couldn’t…” She trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case he went back to hating her.

“Couldn’t talk to me in front of her,” he finished.

“I know I hurt your feelings, and if I could change things, I would,” she said. “But… but I really need to get to class. We’ll… we’ll talk later if you want to.”

“I’d like that,” Severus said, finally looking up into her eyes. He held his breath for a few seconds, before making his way to the dungeons. She turned and made her way upstairs, trying to calm her heart.


	75. Visiting a Monster

Umbridge had been pleased about the sweets Hermione had brought her; but, sure enough, she was still the same controlling, evil, manipulative, toad-like woman who was ever in the Ministry of Magic’s pocket. It seems that even illness couldn’t mellow her.

Well, it had been a long-shot.

“How are you feeling today, Dolores?” Hermione asked, patting the older woman’s hand in false sympathy.

“Better, I think,” Umbridge said sweetly. As a dentist’s daughter, Hermione raised her eyebrows at the yellowing on the teeth, due to her present from Honeydukes.

“Up to lessons yet?” the apprentice said, hoping that the answer would be a ‘no’.

She hoped in vain.

“Madame Pomfrey has kept me here as long as possible—supposedly to stave off infection, though I think she’s lying—but I’m feeling so well that I’m sure I’ll be back teaching by next week. And handling detentions. Have you been giving students lines as I suggested?”

“W-well,” Hermione said, thinking furiously as Umbridge stared at her unblinkingly, “I thought it to be more productive… well, that is to say, not _productive_ … well, it _was_ productive, but that’s not what I meant…”

“What have they been doing?” Umbridge asked, an edge to her high-pitched voice.

“C-cleaning the desks, the chairs, the rooms,” Hermione said quickly. Umbridge opened her mouth, presumably to argue, and Hermione continued. “I knew—uh, hoped—that it wouldn’t be too long before you were well again, and wanted to make sure that the classroom would be spick-and-span for you. Much better than leaving ink stains, I th-thought.”

“A wonderful idea, though not a very good punishment,” Umbridge said. “It’s not effective enough if you do not wish for repeat offences.”

“I see,” Hermione said, inclining her head. “Well, I was bound not to do as well without you around, wasn’t I?”

Traitor, traitor, traitor, she thought disgustedly. Hopefully she won’t see through it. Or at least won’t call me on it.

“At least you have loyalty to your colleagues, dear,” Umbridge said, patting Hermione’s arm. The apprentice left soon after, and ran into Harry out in the hallway.

“Hi, H… Mr. Potter,” she said. When they were alone, it was more difficult to address him formally. “How are you?”

“When’s she coming back to teach?” Harry asked, referring to Umbridge. Hermione frowned at his response.

“By next week, probably,” she said. “Why?”

Harry very visibly shuddered, and involuntarily clutched his scarred hand. This time, Hermione grabbed it, and before Harry could do anything, she was reading the raised, white words on the back. She turned as pale as the shaky letters.

“Who did this?” she asked hoarsely, tears trickling down to her chin.

“Umbridge made me,” Harry said. “It was this quill of hers…”

“Show me,” Hermione said, dragging him along to the DADA teacher’s office. She and Harry rifled through the drawers of Umbridge’s desk, and Harry had soon found it.

“When I write with it, it carves the words into my flesh… my blood is the ink…”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you come to me with this problem? I may be her apprentice, but _that’s_ Ministry-appointed; and that’s because I cast a Cruciatus Curse in _your_ defence, because I used a Portkey that was meant for you, because I’m your _friend_ , and I love you as the brother I never had. Did you really think that my loyalties could ever lie with _her_?”

“I didn’t want to ask,” Harry said quietly, hanging his head as he fiddled with the feather. “Just in case you said that you _were_ on her side.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Why has life caused you to be so cynical? I’m sorry.”

“This is definitely a Dark Arts object, I’m sure,” he said, holding up the quill. She took it from his shaking hands.

“I’m going to find out what it is,” she said. “And I’ll tell Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry growled, startling her. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t care.”

“He will if this is illegal,” Hermione muttered, and she gingerly put the quill into her bag, twisting up her mouth in thought. “Hmm. Don’t worry about this. I promise you; I’ll sort this out. You’ll get justice, more justice than I received.”

“The Ministry still hasn’t apologised,” Harry said. “Despite the article’s publication, they haven’t apologised.”

“They need more evidence,” Hermione said, and she sighed.

“See you later, Hermione,” Harry said, hugging his friend once again before leaving the office.

“Who do I ask about this?” Hermione wondered, glancing down at her closed bag. Only one answer came to her, and she strode to the floo.

Throwing in the powder, she waited, and then stepped into the green flames.

“Severus Snape’s office,” she said, and she disappeared in a whirl of fire and smoke.

**Author's Note:**

> Indeed. What did happen to her? This isn’t the usual kind of time-travelling fic; at least, I hope it’s unique. At the very least, unusual. You’ll see what I mean as we go along.
> 
> So, my dear readers! For those of you who were interested in my original fiction long ago, I've posted my first ebook on Amazon Kindle. It's not yet available, but it should be within the next few days. It's called 'The Venetastrum Legacy', and it's under my real name, Grace Howell. It's a standalone fantasy novel, aimed at late primary-early secondary children, but can be enjoyed by older readers. If you like fantasy stories set in Medieval Europe, you should check it out! There's magic, there's a prophecy, there's a dragon, there's an ambiguous villain... Fun times.


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